The Age of Ash
by TheDox234
Summary: The war against Malefor is long over. 364 years has passed, Spyro and Cynder diverged long ago but fate has them cross paths again. They will face enemies and allies new and old. Something has disturbed the natural balance, pulling back forgotten history. Only one thing is constant in life; war. "Blood Souls" inspired. Newest story. Expect action and drama.
1. Chapter 1

Blurred Veils

 _ **Author's note: Hey guys, I know it's been way too long, I'm sorry. I know that for those of you who read my previous story, some of you might be upset about the discontinuation of it. The fact of the matter was: I rushed into it. I thought I was ready to take my obscene amount of ideas and put them into a plot and story; I was wrong. However, I'm glad because from it, came this one. It's more well written, paced, cinematic, and immersive. At least in my opinion and from what I've heard from my friends.**_

 _ **(Shoutout to Goldengriffiness, Dardarax, and of course 4Dragons. As well as many others for support.)**_

 _ **I'm not going to tell you it's the exact same but better because it isn't. The plot has been worked on, I have a general idea of where I want it to go and how it progresses so in a sense, it's more sturdy. Last but not least, I've have found inspiration from the "Blood Souls" series. Expect to see similar qualities as well as music. Credit does not fall solely on me. I'd rather not get called out for copyright infringement but I do want to keep a little pride for myself. ;P**_

 _ **PLEASE READ :**_

 _ **I have a recommended song for the first portion of this chapter. I'd recommend listening to it as you read until the first scene transition. If you're reading this on an iOS or Android device I'd recommend downloading the FREE app "Musi" It allows you to play any video from YouTube while still able to use other apps so that you can read and listen. Just type in the name of the video I give you and you can play it as you read. Put them on replay if you like. :D The songs really do add to the story.**_

 _ **(Not sponsored by Musi.)**_

 _ **Song: Dark Souls III Extended, Unused, DLC Soundtrack: Prologue (Cycled) by Yuka Kitamura  
UnreleasedGameMusic**_

* * *

 _ **(Start playing song here.)**_

Beginnings are mere specks in a timeline; all start small and all end small. When a dragon dies, they never truly leave the world, they live on in the fabric of an existential plane that can never truly be understood. A thin veil divides one plane from another. On one side, lies a world ravaged by grief, hate, greed, and loss.

A world linked by fire.

Mountains of ash and rubble rose to secure the remnants of a once great city and castle, lost to the dark aspirations of past lives long set to rest. Broken cobblestone cathedral walls, dilapidated and disconnected, hung loosely along towers that rose high into the orange and darkened grey sky. Broken pillars protruded lazily from the prominent rises of grey, umbral ash. Below the ruins lied a vast expanse of ashen land wrought with ethereal bodies.

Souls drifted through the ember filled air, throwing the glowing lights to the side in elegant dances that flickered across the ground, casting Dark, long shadows. Faint sounds of wind and ash moving against the soft, grey and loose soil along with echoes and whispers of elegant choirs that chance the empty and vast expanse.

Spirits passed, dancing in ghostly unpredictable patterns, others slept quietly as they hung effortlessly in gentle wisps of wind; they worshipped their eternal oblivion and loss. Death is a sudden exchange that leaves many with shifted paradigms, finally seeing the error of their ways.

Except one.

One soul rose and fell restlessly, staring, glaring at its surroundings. Ash and glowing ember flowed around it with every gentle breeze, disturbing its solitary thoughts.

Hunger for vengeance ran through it like a river. It had to swallow failure, defeat, and humiliation. It swung in a fit, sending wafts of ember and ash into the air to begin a long and faceless trance in the wind.

As it sat brooding, the choir rose above its previously gentle and quiet tone, gracing the expanse with deep, sorrowful, and meaningful music that swam in the open expanse. Ethereal bodies swarmed into a spiraling gust that lifted up ash, dust, and burning embers, forming a winding and dramatic display that offset the undisturbed plane.

More song filled the air, now a chorus of beautiful voices and gentle violins to match the rhythm of the dancing spirits.

The vengeful spirit sat in awe of the choreography. The act was joyless, rehearsed yet spontaneous. It spoke volumes of remembrance and solitude in this forsaken world.

Forsaken by whom? A higher deity? No. A god did not exist in this world of solitude, only ash and ember.

It was once a god; mighty, strong, upheld… feared. The once mighty had fallen, left to be forgotten and abandoned. There was no peace or solace to be found here. These souls hadn't moved on, only accepted defeat. It was alone, angry, and vengeful. The rest simply grew complacent in their eternal laziness. It could sense a hollow fire within all of them, the lack of ambition, everything belonged here not for a reason but for the lack of one.

It's concentrated gaze fell on a fire set in the middle of the entropy, eternal and sorrowful. For fire did not resonate belonging or depict hope; it carried burdens. No warmth could be collected from it, it was unnecessary and blistering.

It watched as a soul drifted haphazardly, drawing close to the fire. It's wisps of grey and white matter hung aimlessly on the wind like hundreds of tiny grey leaves floating together.

The oblivious spirit unknowingly crept closer. A long shadow swimming behind it; a shape. Flickers of orange, red and yellow danced around the dark figure; a serpent with wings.

A dragon.

It grew nearer

Nine feet, seven feet…

A flash of blinding light and the soul was enveloped in a blanket of fire, eating away at every particular and fabric. Additional ash and ember fell into the air, shadow gone.

The vengeful soul watched from its distance before looking down to see a shadow of its own, a reflection of its past life lost; a reminder of its failure.

It returned its thoughts to the fire, regarding it carefully. There was power to the flame, ancient and dangerous. Souls wandered aimlessly but doing their best to never draw too close to it for fear of losing themselves to its eternal wealth and sorrow. What was its purpose? Why was it here? Fire was always dangerous in the wrong hands but this… was dangerous on its own. It was raw, disturbed, carnivorous… eternal.

It drew him closer, flames growing hotter with every inch. Entranced, the soul continued, growing closer until the sounds of footsteps on hot dry ash filled the vacant expanse and drew the attention of every soul. The footsteps grew heavier with every step, the gaze of every soul locked onto the form of a dragon; embers and ash falling deftly on its scales. Red eyes sat firmly on the small bonfire, orange, red, and yellow flames dancing within them.

The footsteps stopped.

Talons twitched, reaching out, sweat decorating the rest of its body. The flames grew hotter, hungrier. Wisps of grey spirited clouds hung vigilantly in the breeze, silent and grotesque, drawing closer until heat seemed to scream at them, urging them to keep their distance. All watched as flame enveloped him, climbing and flowing across shimmering scales. The souls retreated as they grew hotter, the dragon collapsing on soft grey umbral ash.

The flames faded, all was quiet.

Cold and darkness now crept in the extensive plane. Souls sank sorrowful, feeling themselves slowly succumb to the bitter air. They had lost themselves again, their hope extinguished like that of their life. They did not move for fear of losing themselves to the empty abyss. They grew hollow, aimless, mad with insanity and solitude.

The dragon coughed, talons twitching before tightening. Scales heaved and shifted as he took a deep and longing breath, slowing staggering into a standing position. A distant warmth filled his breast, the flame reduced to a flicker. The sound of stone grinding disturbed the forlorn silence. All turned to see a great archway protruding from the ash, fog drifting down from the top to boil and bubble against the ashen soil. Waves of souls marched toward the the archway, oceans of grey ethereal bodies turned undead, empty and wandering.

The dragon watched, smiling.

 _ **(Stop playing song here)**_

* * *

The sky held the remnants of a storm come to pass, dark clouds boomed with thunder and flashes of white light around the high solitary peaks of the Cather mountains. The range was older than most would care to learn, leaving history unspoken and enigmatic. A maelstrom of clouds was considered an omen by many species, mostly bad omens.

Spyro didn't see it that way. He valued the freedom of a storm, the audacity it takes for something to move freely without ties. The feeling of wind on one's back was more than refreshing, it was reliable and assuring. He may not be confined in the normal sense but he was far from free. Visions of the guardians, staring down at him proudly left him… haunted; He was idolized by so many.

Cold wind washed against his face as he came in to land on the precipice of a great peak, causing rocks to tumble underfoot and break. Icy rains drops flicked against his scales as he looked in the distance, a great city of dragons he'd once called home. Perhaps he still does. A deep breath filled his chest as he sat, his scales heaving together like heavy armor.

The war against Malefor was long past, spreading peace across the the lands. He'd been glad to see it end, to see the suffering end. He'd just never expected it to take his purpose, to leave him… lost. What was he left to do? Where would he go?

He may not be confined but he was far from free. There is a difference between freedom and aimlessness.

He's become a war relic, a hero who's stayed past their welcome. Was that all he was, a tool? He'd grown used to the excitement, the fulfillment, the danger. He'd lost a part of himself after the guardians passed. It never occurred to him that old age could take someone that he loved, let alone a dragon. Cyril, Volteer, Terrador, Hunter...

Sparx.

He shuffled his feet against the frozen stone of the peak, each sound echoed in the distance. The storm had grown quiet, the random putter patter of sparse raindrops filled the silence. The final rays of sun on the horizon began to fill the sky. To the right, the sea glistened the vibrant colors of the sun. To the left, the city of warfang glowed as the rays cascaded against the towers and wall of the great megacity.

They would be proud to see it this way, to hear the sounds of city life, the hustle and bustle of dragons, panthers and moles living peacefully in the great city that they had come to call home.

The rain began to fall more steadily, the tugging of memories on his heart growing less forgiving. He didn't want to remember but he couldn't bring himself to forget; He'd never felt so alone in his life. He could practically hear the flutter of Sparx wings as he hovered over his shoulder along with the complaints about the cold.

A sad laugh escaped him.

The storm began to grow heavier, every drop turning into icy arrows that cracked against his scales. He watched as dragons flew around great spires and towers of warfang, the warmth of the city could put a smile on anyone's face except his.

He remembers the brief time after the war, when he'd gone to search for his mentor, Ignitus. He searched for decades until he had found the white isle. He remembers the joy he felt when he saw him again, and the sadness when he had to leave. He tried looking for the white isle again, only to find it missing. He'd never heard from ignitus again.

It felt worse than when he thought he'd lost him to the flames. He felt… utterly alone.

The storm pelted at his scales, each frozen raindrop stinging more than the last. He eyed the great city of dragons, talons scraping against the rock as his heart thrummed in his chest. He watched as a long line of dragons that extended over hills marched through the front gates, eager to enjoy themselves.

Perhaps he could be one of them again. Perhaps he could be someone they could trust.

His tail curled and swayed, the muscles in his feet and shoulders tight with anxiety.

He stretched his wings and flew.

* * *

The sun dimmed as it rested upon a horizon of calm peaceful waves, evening light glistening off the surface. Vibrant shades of yellow, orange, red and purple filled the sky along with the distant sound of gulls chattering could set almost any mind to rest. If only that were true for hers.

Cynder sat on the far reaches of warfang, the city still visible but far enough away to keep her from being seen; she had to think. It had been centuries since the last time she'd set foot in the great city of warfang, centuries since she'd last seen her… friend.

Her eyes fell to the frothing water crashing against the cliff side, watching as each wave rushed against the wall of solid rock before pulling away; the scene was rhythmic. To think this cliff hadn't always been here, would be think back to a time when darker powers threatened the land; Malefor. She had fought against his tyrannical virtues, clinging to hope that it would make a difference. It had, but at a cost. Parts of the planet had been torn apart from the rest, creating majestic floating islands that decorated the sky. Entire cities fell between the cracks, homes and loved ones… lost. It was a cruel past, one that many could learn from and eventually come to appreciate. For her… it brought sleepless nights.

Perhaps if she had tried harder, done more to help with reparations, it could have prevented the guilt. Now she stood on the border of one of the greatest dragon cities of the age, eyes glossy as they stared back at the cities great walls. Those walls signified the attributes of what it took to be a dragon; they used to give her pride. Now… she wonders if she's fit to merely look at them. She had abandoned them, cast them aside as she let herself be consumed by her own guilt. She'd cast the citizens aside, the guardians… Spyro.

Tears threatened to roll from her eyes, she didn't care, no one was here to see them or to comfort her. Why did she come back? All this brought her was pain and doubt. She wanted to come back but she couldn't. After the war, Spyro found word that Ignitus could still be alive, stuck between life and death. He had asked her to come with him, to help him find his mentor and friend.

She left the night before they were scheduled to leave, not speaking a word to anyone.

She remembers she'd flown south until she reached the great swamp, the mushrooms toppled and crumbling, dragonfly houses crushed under the wreckage. Small sticks protruded from the ground, signifying a small cemetery. Spyro had been relieved to know his family was safe but distressed to see his home destroyed. She finally got to see why.

After, she'd flown west until she came across a string of islands known as the jade isle. Sacred altars crumbling and destroyed, parts of an entire culture lost to the griefs of war. She remembered that as she walked through the remnants, Moles would look up at her with gratefulness on their faces but haunted sorrow in their eyes. The guardians had done everything they could to reach out to the far villages of the land, helping rebuild civilizations. She knows they helped but nothing could get rid of those memories; she's been ruined by war…

She remembers the days and years she'd received word of a guardian's death, the death of someone she fought alongside, the death of a friend. Each death was as painful as the last. She spent those days in a cave… weeping and mourning their loss. She'd never learned how they died, she'd never gone to any of the burials, she'd never said goodbye… She had gone to the outskirts of the city, fighting to bring herself to terms with everything, always losing.

Her head hung low, tears trailing down her cheeks and snout before dripping onto the already dewy green grass. The memories felt worse than the experiences, haunting and unforgiving. She looked up to the sky with tear filled eyes, dragons soaring above warfang in the distance, only small blurry specks.

Would her return be cathartic? Would they remember her betrayal? Could they forgive her? Her claws twitched and paws shifted shakily, tail hung low as she stood up, turning in the opposite direction. Perhaps they would be better off without her. She slowly began to distance herself from the city.

She stopped.

What of spyro? He deserved a reason for why she abandoned him. What she did wasn't easily forgiven, she knew, but it was something that needed to be done at some point. She turned back to warfang, taking small awkward steps toward the place she once called home. She looked back to the cliff she had stood on for so long, the sun resting perfectly on the crest. A small smile tugged at her lips, gracing them with a smirk that she hadn't felt from herself in so long.

As Cynder closed in on the gates of warfang, her stomach lurched, the spoils of her lunch tickling her throat; there were so many people. They wandered, talking and roaming just on the other side of the archway. She slowly crept off the side of the path and into the thick wood that grew there.

The city seemed to have become much busier since she left.

She sat there alone in the thicket for several moments; things had just became much more difficult. Was it too late to turn back? Perhaps it would be easier for everyone; she knew she meant herself. Why couldn't this be easy? She should leave...

No…

This feud with herself needed to end. She turned back to the path just beyond the turmoil of branches and leaves, her talons clenching beneath her to knead the dirt under them; she closed her eyes. Twitching paws, she set herself back on the path, the scraping of her sharp claws on cobblestone echoed in her mind; she opened her eyes.

She looked up, the archway looming over her; her heart fluttered. A deep breath. She strode through.

* * *

 _ **Author's note: I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter. Please follow and leave a review if you want. Any criticism is good criticism. Please feel free to PM me any questions you might have as long as they don't require spoilers to answer. Writing this story took a lot of trial and error as well as help from a beta. I put 110% effort into making sure this chapter was exactly as I wanted it. I'll see you guys in the next chapter.**_

 _ **Yours truly.**_


	2. Chapter 2

Memorial Remedy

Chapter 2

 _ **Authors note: It's out! This chapter is a special one and focuses more on character than plot. I hope you all enjoy it! Feel free to leave a review once you're done, I love reading them, it helps me understand what you guys expect from this story. That's not to say I'll change it all purely for you guys but you do have a voice, please use it.**_

 _ **Enjoy!**_

* * *

The oblivion of time erases all memory, leaving none to remember the unkindled tombs deep within the Cather mountains.

Spiders crept along cavern walls, the squeaks of rats echoed through empty corridors. Bones lay strewn about in uncovered graves, the smell of rot and dew filled the air. Stone caskets lay broken, deformed by ages of water erosion. Faint wails reverberated off the cold mountain stone as wind whipped past the mouth of the crypt.

This was not the place of remembrance it used to be.

Moldy candles sat broken and cold among the caskets, wilted flowers hung limply in vases posted around their coffins; this used to be a place of love and sacrifice. Now, it was left to be forgotten, abandoned by all except those that lay among the rats and cobwebs. The halls of this crypt used to radiate candle light, house bouquets of elegant flowers, and shelter families of dragons congregated to celebrate their loved ones; Golden harps once coveted now sat untouched the strings bent and out of tune, incapable of playing happy Melodies.

This place was nothing more than a lost memory, all that rested here was cursed; even the rats didn't disturb the dead.

Silence was heavy, choking out any sound that disturbed the tomb. Suddenly, it was shattered, the heaving and grinding of stone loud in the emptiness. Rats scurried across the ground as the lid of a sarcophagus crashed against the floor, shattering. A dragoness gasped awake,cold wind brushing across her scales. She shivered slightly, muscles tensing in the brisk air. Slowly her eyes opened, eyelids fluttering. She then squinted, the images of her surroundings slowly becoming visible. Stiffly, she rose from her stone bed, the candles within the tomb suddenly lighting. Orange light cascaded across her dull, blood red scales, the decorative swirling patterns ran across her like grey and black rivers in an ocean of maroon.

A loud sigh escaped her, the sound of scales rubbing against one another like armor. Her hand came to rest on the edge of the casket, slowly pulling herself from the sarcophagus. Talons scraped against stone as she stood, faint and shallow breaths filling her breast. She brought her left paw to cover her heart, the warmth within it faint and slowly fading. She stood tall, her head almost touching the roof of the crypt. Her stumbling footsteps echoed in the darkness, the sound of dry palms against loose stone and rock. She stood at the entrance, snow whipping past her face in the cold wind, the roar of a thunder head ripped through the hum of the wind; a blizzard.

The fire in her breast grew before flickering, the flame threatening to fade and die.

* * *

Music, footsteps, and a cacophony of voices all speaking at once rang in Cynders ears. Her head seemed to spin with all of the excitement, the bodies of moles, panthers, cheetahs, and dragons all moving around. She watched as the smaller citizens took the sidewalk and the dragons took the street, every one of them wearing a smile on their face. She smiled, a small laugh escaping her.

Banisters hung on buildings and wires strung across the street. Festive music filled the gaps of conversation and sound in the the ambiance. The beat of drums pumped rhythm into the sound of footsteps, the gentle strumming of a lute put song into the lyrics of conversation. She spun around, the sound of tapping feet in symmetry to the hymns. A beautiful pantheress swayed her skirt to and fro as her legs stretched and swung in a magnificent pattern, a smile and a laugh grew on her expression. Warfang never seemed so beautiful. A voice rung out in the chaos of the streets, small, high pitched and slightly slurred. She slowly strode over to it, her head tilted and eyes wandering.

"Fear not the aberrations of chaos and fear! Hold onto your loved ones not in terror but in hope of new life and joy; new hope!"

A mole stood atop a box labeled 'plaster', pudgy and small. A small sign stood beside him, the promise of, 'Tales and preachings' inscribed on it. She turned around, a chuckle escaping her in amusement. This city was much more than when she left it.

She wandered the streets, small stand up shops and pop up stores clogged the side streets and turn off points, a variety of knick-knacks arranged on their tables. Cynder meandered her way to each stall, admiring the collections of each one. One sold homemade jewelry, beautiful arrangements of gems, silver and gold strung together. The silver caught her attention the most; gold seemed to clash with her color and complexion. The stall across it sold jewelry boxes, very convenient for eachother. She pushed past a group of other dragons moving to get through to keep window shopping. A few of them smiled and wished her well, others gave a confused look.

"Did you see her scale color?!"

"Yeah… I remember my mom telling me about a black scaled dragoness once…"

"Do you think…"

It was obvious they were talking about her. Their words weren't inherently harmful but they didn't exactly come off as welcoming.

She gave a sigh. Whether it was in content, disappointment, or gratefulness, she didn't know. Pushing on, the muscles of her tail twitched with each passerby that gave an incredulous stare. The voices of happiness faded until she became aware of the scraping of her talons against the road with each step. She didn't want this, she wanted to move on, forget the past. Could she have made a mistake coming here?

She looked up to find herself in front of another stall, this one sold ornate and decorated vases. Each vase depicted a beautifully crafted image on it.

"They're a set, gotta buy all of 'em." Spoke a hoarse voice.

Glancing upwards greeted her with the unfamiliar face of a cheetah, withered with age and experience. He wore semi circular glasses and carried a cane that looked to be made from the root of a tree.

"They depict the age of the dragon." The cheetah continued, the scraping of wood on stone sounded as he moved closer, picking up a vase and holding it up for her to see.

"This was the day the guardian temple was raided for the purple egg." He said, pointing to the image.

She admired the picture of a room lit by firelight filled with eggs, a guardian watching over them. Ignitus? The art almost seemed to move, flickers of flames and the breathing of the guardian; it seemed so alive. Suddenly he spun the vase around until it came to the image again except this time it was changed. Egg shells scattered the floor of the room, the guardian now gone. She admired the remaining vases all depicting the past, a past she shared...

"I've no room for enchanted pottery anymore." He interrupted.

Cynder looked at him in amazement.

"Funny, how this whole event is dedicated to rememberance when nobody quite wants to remember the time it's dedicated to."

The cheetah spoke wisely, nodding his head as if recalling memories. Cynder looked up to the sky, clouds painted purple in the final rays of the sun. She watched as it all faded into black, the night finally taking over the city.

Cynder stared down at where the old cheetah should be, darkness having enveloped him. There was a soft flick followed by a flourish of light as a match was lit; the orange glow danced over the cheetahs face. She watched as it moved through the dark, lighting a set of candles that sat on the table in front of him before illuminating a set of lanterns that hung above him and in front of her. She turned around to see dragons lighting braziers and dangling lanterns hung over the road, the cascade of light traveling down the road as more were lit like a stream flowing with ember light.

She turned turned to her left, the cheetah standing alongside her, a smile growing as he watched. She smiled with him.

"I appreciate you taking the vases off my hands, I don't know who else would have them." He looked up at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Her head turned to look back at the vases, only to find them missing. She turned back to the cheetah, her mouth agape and eyes opened wide. He laughed.

"You've been away a long time, you may have forgotten what it means to be looked up to. They should do well to remind you, both of you." He spoke evenly.

His very words struck a chord, causing her feet to shuffle and her throat to go dry. Who was he? Why did he care so much?

For the first time in this entire night, she spoke.

"Where are they, the vases?"

He hummed, his smile broadening.

"You ask good questions. You care about the past, yes? No. I implore you... hold onto the past, never let go. History is just as important as the future." The scatterbrained words and sentences were cryptic, their meaning hidden from plain view.

A satisfied huff signaled the end of his thoughts. However, Cynder held her tongue waiting for more.

"You will find them in a place of importance."

He finally answered, his voice cracking as if it were under strain.

She gave a huff, shaking her head at the idea, not appreciating the vague blanket statement. The dragoness turned away in frustration, internally scoffing at the insanity of the evening. She turned back to the cheetah to see him gone along with his stall; His words rang in her head.

Did she want to hold onto the past? Why couldn't she just let it all fade from her mind? Why did this have to be difficult? Was she making it difficult?

A loud explosion behind her interrupted her thoughts, the cries of other dragons sent her head spiraling, her talons digging into the cobblestone and her muscles tightening as her head hung low and her tail raised above her, ready to strike. Her lips drew back in a snarl.

Still on guard, she looked up to see streams of purple, gold, red and pink fall through the sky, the image of a glowing flower spread across the darkness. Other loud eruptions fills her ears as more glowing flowers exploded in the sky before fading. She looked up, her eyes reflecting every color and picture. Her mouth hung open, a smile tugging at the corners. 'Oooohs and ahhhhs' erupted from the crowd of onlookers as they too watched the glorious display. Green, purple, orange, gold and blue reflected off the scales of every dragon that watched, making them shimmer like a mystic stone in a cascading river. A loud barrage of explosions filled the air all at once as a climax of colors, roars and joyful screams filled the city of Warfang.

Slowly, the smoke settled and the crowd grew quiet, a gentle strumming of instruments resonated through the streets of warfang, drawing the city to the source of the jovial music,dragons, moles, cheetahs, wolves, and panthers hummed the melody. Bodies poured through streets and alleyways, the cacophonous sound of footsteps and humming filled her ears as the crowd seemed to pull her with them. Her talons scraped against stone as she tried to push against the current of bodies. She was just considering using her shadow to escape when she suddenly found herself in an opening, a large plaza surrounded by trees and covered in grass.

In front of her was a stage with a large semicircular dome behind it; an Amphitheater. Moles cheetahs, panthers and wolves played lutes, assorted drums, violas, violins, and cellos. She looked to see a dragon amidst the middle of it all; her heart stopped.

"Spyro…"

* * *

Spyro circled the spires and towers of Warfang, admiring the city life below. Dragons, moles, wolves, panthers and cheetahs flowed through the streets like a river, talking, dancing, singing, and playing; the city roared with life. A smile grew on his face, the mirth of it all warmed his heart. He looked up, other dragons twirled and darted in the orange and yellow sky. He looked left, to the great towers, the soul of Warfang; The Temple. He looked to the gardens that surrounded the cathedral, where great trees and elegant flowers grew freely, unregulated, untouched; these gardens were revered for their memory, and peace.

He would land there.

The chirping of birds sounded through the leaves of trees and shrubbery, filling the garden with wonderful song. He could hear the gentle plucks of a harp as it's wonderful melodies ran through him and his surroundings. He admired the privacy and tranquility, the leaves swayed in the breeze and the soft trickle of water down an elegant fountain in heart of it all. He paced the garden, quiet footfalls on crisp grass as he made his way around the center. The petals of blooms drifted down from the trees like angel feathers.

He couldn't help but wander as he surveyed his surroundings. His eyes glanced over statues, each sat in a circle at the edge of the foliage, like guardians watching over a sacred altar. Maybe that's what they were, each dragon depicted a different guardian, carved proudly into stone and set to rest on a marble pedestal. One caught his eye, a slim dragoness that wore her horns like he'd never seen. Two horns rested close to her neck, another two branched off and rose proudly like the spires of a demon. He looked down to see a plaque resting on the foot of the pedestal. 'Pentriona', he read. Her name perhaps. The inscription below it was indecipherable.

A twig snapped startling him from his inspection, forcing him to turn away from the statue. Before him stood an aged pantheress, a short wooden cane in hand to help her stand. She stood facing the fountain, her hand held under a stream of water that ran from a spout. Spyro's eyes squinted, his lips pursed as he watched her play with the water.

"Not planning to perform this evening? Dear oh dear, what a shame… I do so love to hear you sing. As I'm sure most of the city does." Her words were strikingly non-malevolent. Instead they seemed to warm the air like a flourishing spring breeze.

Who was she? Spyro's paws moved automatically, slowly drawing closer to the stranger.

"You need not fear an old wolf." She joked, a laugh escaping her.

Spyro's face contorted, analyzing the strange statement in his mind before chalking the misstep as a side effect to the pantheress's age.

"You've given up, haven't you? Even now you're telling yourself _'She won't be back._ " A mischievous smile cracked her maw. "Shame…"

He was struck silent, the words in his throat lost as his face twisted, giving a small huff. He tilted his head, his eyes scanning the frail figure as he pondered an answer.

"Today's a day of celebration, a day of remembrance and love. Yet you choose to wallow here, running." Sad words hung in the air as she turned to him.

"The city will need you more than ever on this night. Share yourself and perhaps you will be thoroughly surprised." She added, a glimmer in her eyes.

She looked up, the final rays of sunlight touching the sky until they faded to be replaced by the starry night sky. Suddenly the sky exploded with color, swirls of every shade imaginable erupting in explosions that filled his vision with extravagant sparkling circles.

"Remind them of the Dawn of the Dragon…" The loud tap of a cane echoed in his mind.

The grass suddenly began to swirl, spinning and morphing beneath his feet to the familiar touch of wood paneling. Looking up, Spyro blinked rapidly, raising a paw to rub at his eyes. Trees warped, their trunks merging together to form the rafters and supports of a wooden construct; a stage. Flowers and stems spiraled into the air, formulating an extravagantly colored curtain.

A team of moles walked on stage, each one casting muddled stares at the sudden appearance of the purple drake. Behind them, a cheetah barked orders, making sure everything moved smoothly.

"Alright everyone, get to your places! Looks like we're starting this performance by ourselves this- OH!" Her stream of commands suddenly ended, eyes resting on Spyro. Quickly regaining her composure, the feline speed walked towards him, brushing off flower petals and leaves stuck to his scales. "Better late than never. Just start when you're ready and the band will try to pick up the rhythm, okay? Great!"

Before Spyro could get a word out the cheetah was walking away throwing a signal to the stage hand. The sound of curtains climbing upwards drew his attention, quickly forcing his mouth shut.

He looked forward to see an orange glow emanating from the streets of warfang, the flicker of braziers danced across countless bodies of dragons, moles, panthers, cheetahs and wolves. They stared up at him, smiles plastered across their faces.

He looked across the ocean of curious and bewildered eyes, bodies shuffling in the quietness of the night. He turned his head around, the patient stare of the musicians waiting… His mind raced with the memories of the city, of his friends and family; He was lost. What was he to do?

Spyro froze, soft violet irises staring into deep sea green. He swam in them, mind drifting as he focused on HER eyes and her eyes alone. Everything else dimmed around him and his mind thought back to the pantheress's ords.

' _Share yourself and perhaps you will be thoroughly surprised…'_

He took a deep breath, his eyes closing and his chest heaving. His feet shuffled on the wood of the stage, his talons etching marks into the boards. Words, images and memories of his friends filled his mind, pulling his mind away from the stage and the audience. The melody of a hymn tugged at his heart, the lyrics tugging at his lips.

He sang. The audience cheered.

* * *

 _ **Author's note: [Redacted]**_

 _ **No more song lyrics.**_

 _ **Hope you guys enjoy the chapter. Edited. 7-29-18**_

 _ **~Dox**_


	3. Chapter 3

The Peaceful Moments

 **Author's Note: Hey everyone, it's time for a new update and I'm super excited about it. Things are looking great and I'm really enjoying writing this story. It's not looking like I'm going to stop anytime soon. I've got a lot of things planned out, rearing and ready to go. I wont say expect more frequent updates because I'm trying to pace both you, (The readers) and myself. There are a lot of things going on in this story that all feed into one another and the last thing I want is to dig myself into a hole trying to pump out chapters because I can't contain my excitement. With those things said, I want to give you all a little tip… There are a lot of tiny details in my story that hint and connect to each other, even in the songs. This isn't a ploy from me to get you more involved in my story even though that may be the result, I just want all of you to discover things and enjoy the story to its full potential. There are tons of little details and easter eggs I like to add for both Spyro and Bloodsouls fans alike, take your time to look and notice them. This is a massive step up from my previous story and the most ambitious thing I've ever tried to accomplish with my writing and it has me STOKED. I'm doing my absolute best to make sure I have everything figured out before I release a chapter and nothing makes me happier than seeing you guys support and read my story. Thank you.**

 **Enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

The moon hung high and aglow, stars shimmered and danced, enjoying their day: The world's night. Waves, colored pearl in the synodic light, lapsed against themselves as the ocean tides rose to overtake sea stacks and push against barnacled cliffs. The distant howling of wild wolves filled the silent night, the chattering of gulls having ceased at the day's dusk; they rested peacefully on the stones and crevices of the rock face. Brisk wind swept away leaves from the quiet forest overgrowth, the reflection of white moonlight shimmered off the glossy surfaces of tree petals, dazzling to the eyes. City life was a distant memory, the industrialization of urban expansion forgotten to this vast stretch of nature. The remnants of an ancient cathedral rested peaceful and undisturbed against the slope of a great cliffside, overlooking the sea at the start of a mountain range. Cobwebs and disease resided within the great chapel, bats and spiders having made it their home, fond of the cold damp walls.

The gentle whistle through stone arches sang voiclessley in the desolate halls and chambers that resided below the massive church. Countless corpses rested within the tombs, names long forgotten; unscribed.

A loud clap struck down the peacefulness of the night, soon followed by a sound similar to that of fabric tearing, the sound startling the coastal birds into wakefulness and terror.

The thin veil that divided realities sat torn amongst the ruined cathedral walls, a devastated hungry world poured through like blood seeping from a wound, a thick, dark, and corrupt blood that burned the life away, malforming and regressing all it touched; Nightmares teemed into the world. The ocean darkened scarlet, a river of crimson slowly spreading to consume and strangle the swift sea; a parasite that thrived. The green of trees and grass faded to a dull grey, wilting and collapsing in the suffocating reach of this parasitic grasp; Its touch grew, hindered by none. Beasts of both the known and unknown spread, rushing off to uncertain lands where their malicious nature could take foothold and build, overrun all with their twisted will.

The night grew hot, the plants and leaves deteriorating into ash that covered the ground nothing but stone and the bare carcasses of trees and shrubbery remained, resting like tombstones. Small creatures died, suffocating, the ash choking them as they struggled to adapt and search for food and water.

Dead awoke, centuries of buried souls rising from beneath the loose ash and abandoning their tombs below the surface, aimless and insane. They scattered into the night, dragons taking to the skies and teams of vicious undead wolves and panthers stormed together as they scoured the surface. Limp corpses without legs or arms wailed into the night, agonizing howls of suffering and pain; resurrection an unfavorable fate for some.

The cold emerald eyes of a dragoness watched from the peak above the conflux, tail swinging and muscles tense. Her eyes darted between moving figures, blinking rapidly in the warm wind along with the gentle flapping of her wing membrane as they shook in the strong looked northeast, the gentle thrum of her soul told her she needed to head in that direction. Perhaps it was civilization. She slowly stretched her wings, thin layers of crust, dirt and ash falling off as they spread apart. She crouched low to the ground before pushing off, sending her into the air. The wind caught her, lifting her higher into the night sky; for the first time in millennia, she flew.

* * *

The audience burst into applause, whistles, howls, and roars of approval fed into one another, harmonizing to intense decibels. Cynder couldn't help but give a small giggle as she watched spyro cringe, most likely from the noise; it went on for a while. The noise finally died down once the band started playing another tune, dragons separated, finally leaving the plaza and allowing enough leg and shoulder room to walk around. Citizens of warfang, same species of not, gathered together, danced, sang, and talked with minds free of trouble or strife. They all shared the same life, no matter how different from each other.

The sheer joviality of that night put a smile on her face, warmed her heart, and numbed her troubled mind; it was bliss.

Her eyes looked back to the stage, unable to find her friend. Could she still call him that after so long? She scanned the crowd, looking for any sign of purple scales and yellow horns. Her mind raced as her eyes darted back and forth, head turning to search behind her; no sign of him. She made her way towards the edge of the crowd, close to the foliage that made up the sides of the commons; she sat down, pursing her lips. She continued to look across the sea of heads and moving bodies. Where did he go?

She looked up at the starry night.

* * *

Spyro shied away from the uproar of cheers, the cacophony much too loud against the amplified bowl of the amphitheater.

He launched himself into the sky along with a tide of other dragons as the band started playing another song; he'd prefer to not have to sing again. He circled around the plaza, eyeing the crowd from above as he looked for any dragoness that bared some semblance to that of Cynder's.

Wind swept over his face, drying his eyes out and forcing him to blink rapidly until the thin film that protected them slid over. His gaze slowly drifted to the lit form of the Dragon temple, in awe of its enormity. Towers triumphantly rose into the night, lit by firelight that washed over the walls like cascading yellow waterfalls. Almost every inch of it was lit, a beacon that shone away the night.

Spyro glanced down to see the crowd much thinner than it had previously been, the grass finally visible and plenty of room to land. He scanned the lobby once again, eyes darting between the shapes of female dragons; he spotted someone flying through the air. He squinted, looking more closely at the peculiar form of a dark colored dragoness slicing through the air before disappearing into the night, her scales falling off and into the crowd before she vanished from sight. Spyro's heart jerked, quickly deciding to give chase and flying in the same direction he saw the dragoness disappear to. However, he quickly lost her, unable to find any sign of the dragoness anywhere. He shook his head before giving a small huff. Why would she leave so quickly? He knew she didn't like crowds too much but… Something felt off.

Spyro's mind drifted, the melodic tunes from below sweeping his consciousness away until all he could hear and feel were the pattern and refreshing air. In the moment, he looked at the beauty of the city, admiring the soft river glow of firelight that swept through the streets. They spanned across the entire dragon metropolis, further defining its vastidity. A pleasant growl resonated within his throat, thoroughly enjoying the landscape until his gaze sank back to the plaza.

Suddenly, he spotted movement to the west end of the commons, in a small outcropping that looked to be a resting area, just left of the stage.

His wings froze, the faint outline of an ebony dragoness visible; a nervous smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Spyro slowly descended.

* * *

Cynder sat facing away from the crowd, quietly, doing her best to not think about the lost opportunity she had to make amends with her only friend. Her talons dug into the ground, as her tail slashed away at a small shrub; her mind couldn't decide what to feel. She gave a small exhale of breath before letting her head droop slightly. Her eyes burned, threatening to leak tears as they watered. Cynder jerked her head straight up, letting the water drain from her lids. She wouldn't cry, not here. The ebony dragoness turned around.

She froze.

"Hey Cynder…" Spyro coughed hesitantly. "It's… uh… been a while."

She gave a small laugh, her eyes watering up bowed her head shakily as greeting, one he returned just as anxiously.

"That was a lovely song…" Cynde hummed, her head hanging bashfully.

He simply shuffled his feet and cleared his throat; his eyes took periodically glances to the ground and back up at her.

There was a long pause, both dragons studying each other and waiting for the opposite to make a comment.

He stood up and meandered closer to her, the typical distance of two strangers meeting; She shuffled slightly, her heart sinking at the lack of familiarity. It wasn't until now that she realized how much bigger he was compared to her, almost two heads taller. She looked at his expression, his eyes soft but his face stern, wise. Faint scars decorated his snout and cheeks, not enough to ruin his complexion but add character. Her mind drifted to that last time she saw him, how young they'd both been. He was kind to the point where you would think him ignorant. In a way it was true, how knowledgeable can you be when you were raised by dragonflies? She wondered how much he'd changed since then.

Spyro watched her silently, pondering his own thoughts. He remembered her being so strong and reserved, which he supposed remained true now but... it was difficult to see. He associated those words with the young her, he couldn't possible expect her to act now the same way she did when they were both younglings. She was definitely grown, well exercised and put together, even though he had obviously caught her at the worst time, he could tell she was very mature. He wasn't sure how he felt about her, it had been so long since they last saw each other. During his time alone, he'd always wondered where she had gone how she was doing. There was never a doubt in his mind that she was safe, she was more than capable.

They both broke from thought, realizing that they had let the conversation die.

Spyro was the first to speak.

"Where did you go?"

Cynder's heart sank, knowing that she would need to explain eventually, but mentally hitting herself for not thinking about what she would say. Her tail swung from side to side as her eyes darted around, her mind tripping over itself.

"I'm sorry…" She burst out.

Spyro's face contorted, eyes raised, and mouth pursed; his head tilted to the side just a little.

"What for?"

There was another long pause.

"For leaving…" Her voice shook, cracking slightly.

She watched as his shoulders visibly sank, casting his head to gaze off to the side, looking anywhere but at her.

She felt it… The guilt. Only this time it was worse tenfold.

He stood up, his scales sliding together and his knuckles popping as he turned around, he slowly distanced himself from her.

Cynder's heart writhed in her chest, her eyes stung and a wail threatening to escape; she was sure he was going to leave. However, he stopped. Cynder's breath hitched, stifling a defeated sigh as he turned his head and twitched it in the direction he was facing, gesturing for her to follow him; he started walking again.

Her paws fumbled beneath her as she quickly stood up and hurried to match his pace.

He lead her to a small cobbled pathway, wide enough for them to walk side by side but only just. Small torches were sparsely placed along the sides, so as to keep the path lit. The tops of the trees offered cover from the night, giving them a stronger sense of privacy; they calmly made their way down the path.

"Why are you here?"

Cynder looked away, her eyes stern and mouth taut. She'd never expected him to ask that, let alone so firmly. Was he mad at her?

"Because… I felt it was time to come back." Her voice sounded distant, unsure, the words dying on her lips as she spoke.

He didn't reply.

Flickers of orange light reflected off her dark scales, the small crackling of fire coming and going with each torch they passed. Even in the night the birds still sang, the offset sounds of celebration keeping everything up, even at this hour.

Cynder looked ahead, the narrow path they were on opened up to a tiny meadow with a single, large brazier lighting the entire area; they both stopped a few feet from the bonfire.

Spyro laid down, looking up at her until she did the same. She sat down first, the cool grass relaxing and soothing against her warm body. She let the rest of her body fall naturally, her forepaws crossing as she suddenly became very comfortable with the environment.

She took a second to look around once again, admiring the serene garden all around them. She'd noticed many more gardens now than the last time she was in Warfang, then again there were a lot of new things to Warfang she wasn't familiar with.

She focused back on Spyro, his gaze fixated on the brazier beside them; he gave a melancholy sigh.

"A lot has changed." He spoke indiscriminately.

"Warfang or us?" She couldn't help but question.

He looked back at her, a blank expression on his face. Cynder's eyes searched his, shaky sea green scanning distant purple. He spoke.

"Leaving Warfang was a trial, for both of us I'm sure. I wouldn't have found Ignitus if I hadn't left." His gaze turned back to the bazier, the fire lighting the front and side of his features.

Cynder's head perked, paws shuffling as she looked to Spyro for more. Why wouldn't he look at her? It was her turn to look away, the shame of her betrayal washing over her again.

"I should have gone with you, helped you look for him." There was a small lilt in her voice; resentment. For herself?

Spyro gave a great sigh, the flames of the braier flickering and swaying in the exhale.

"I can't be upset, it's been too long. He told me about this day, told me that we would need to seek comfort in each other." He attested. " Where did you go? I've always wondered."

"West…" She answered.

Spyro nodded deftly, his mind going back to the day he left.

"I flew east, opposite of you then. I went across the plains and sea."

Cynder watched the orange flames dance and flicker in Spyro's eyes as he spoke. She let herself shuffle closer to him, trying to pay attention to the story.

Cynder finally took time to thoroughly examine the dragon in front of her; he looked battleworn. Her eyes examined the broken shine of several of his chest plates, deep cracks running through them, the remnants of battle. They had to be new, dragons shed their scales every forty-five years. What had he been up to?

She looked to his face, taking the time to look back at the scars she noticed earlier, the faint trace of scar ran across the left side of his mouth, along with another that rested on his cheek. These were much older, possibly from the war against Malefor. She looked at the rest of his features, much of his complexion different than the last time she saw him. The first difference being the new chin horn he had grown, similar to that of any guardian. The second was a new pair of horns that had grown beneath his first set, much smaller but much sharper looking. Lastly, her eyes noticed the spines joined by tattered wing membrane, resting at his shoulders and other various joints on his body.

So much of him had changed with such little differences.

She brought her thoughts back to the story, not wanting to upset the purple dragon for not listening.

"I'd never flown so far. By the time I found land again my wings felt torn. There wasn't much either, just floating islands." Spyro licked his lips, the fire drying them out.

Spyro shook his head as if discarding a disruptive thought.

"So much of the world had changed, taken apart by The Great Destroyer. I couldn't put everything back together." The purple drake huffed, his talons digging into the dirt.

Cynder nodded her head in understanding, the same guilt and frustration still lingering in her mind.

"But I found it, The White Isle. Id never expected to see Ignitus as the Chronicler."

Cynder felt herself mentally stumble, the wave of information staggering. She reeled her head back, eyes wide with surprise.

"Of course he couldn't come back, his soul was bound to the isle. The last thing we talked about was you and I." Spyro sighed.

This caused Cynder to shuffle her forepaws, grunting as she cleared her throat.

Spyro nodded deftly. They both turned their heads at the sound of an explosion before realizing it was another set of fireworks going off.

"What then?" Cynder blinked, firelight flickering against her scales; the grass bristled as she shifted her weight.

There was a pregnant pause. Spyro looked back to the fire once again, his eyes distant

"He told me he couldn't come back, that he had a new responsibility. He said… once I left there, I wouldn't be able to find it again…" His lips turned up into a slight sneer before relaxing again.

Cynder looked up at the stars in thought, the night sky glowing with color. Red, yellow and green sparkling dots decorated the sky. The gaseous clouds of nebulae, bathed the background in purple, orange, and blue hue.

Cynder faced the purple dragon, the two of them finally looking at each other.

This pause wasn't awkward, but honest and full of understanding.

Spyro turned to admire the meadow they were in, noticing a white wooden arch with roses growing along the sides of it. A small bird bath stood next to it, two tiny beautiful blue jays ruffling their feathers in the water, cleaning themselves and enjoying their company. He turned back to the path they had come from, the music still playing along with the sound of comradery still audible.

"I think we should get back to the party." He gave a small chuckle as he stood. The birds fluttered out of the water and into the trees, startled by the movement.

Cynder sighed slightly, disappointed that their time alone had to draw to a close.

"I don't see why not."

They walked together, back down the path that they came, although a little closer to each other than previously. Gorgeous arrays of flowers bloomed along the edge of the cobblestone, yellow, blue, violet, maroon, chartreuse, orange, every color imaginable; she never noticed before.

The rustle of leaves as they fell from branches along with tree blossoms as the danced in the gentle breeze, was completely surreal. She found herself in a place she used to call home but for once, she was finally seeing it as that, a home. She looked forward to see panthers, moles, and cheetahs dancing with each other in the soft grass while dragons soared above in the night sky.

The song suddenly changed and she found the pace slightly different among the crowd. She couldn't help but pay attention. She looked to her left, Spyro watching the audience, a faint smile on his lips. Without a moment's notice, more dragons launched into the air, joining the others that had already left the ground. She watched in awe as the started dancing, their wings folding and swinging rhythmically in tune with the delicate strumming and playing of instruments. Suddenly, she found herself humming the tune and her eyes tracing the choreography, the movements quick and exciting, freeing to the soul; they looked as if they could dance all night long.

" _Dragons in the sky, the fighting has begun_

 _Shadow versus light, and who will stand when it is done?_

 _Magisters and fright, his destiny it calls_

 _Inquisitor your hand will reprimand before he falls!"_

" _Now are the days of wine and gilded arms_

 _Now are the days when magic is reborn_

 _Seal up the breach, the evil is no more_

 _Once and for all, we close the darkened door"_

" _Darkness never ever rise again_

 _Darkness never ever rise again"_

The pair stayed on the ground, staring up at the great spires of the Dragon Temple, enjoying the laughter, music, and company all of Warfang had to offer.

* * *

 **I practically wrote all of this chapter in one sitting. It took incredibly long and I more than likely have bedsores now. Do you see what I do for you guys? XP**

 **This is a key turning point in the story, we're nearly finished with the exposition and I'm more than excited to give you more. For those of you who might be disappointed that the Intro to this story is slowly coming to a close, take a breath. There is a decent amount of story time left for me to give to you before the excitement starts, so stay tuned and of course, please feel free to leave a review, they are starstriking to read!**

 **Once again a massive shoutout to Dardarax for Beta reading, and reviewing my story. It most certainly be as good as it is without his help. For those of you who aren't familiar with him, you should really go check out his stories; He's a Veteran.**

 **Anyways, for those of you unfamiliar with the song I used for this chapter, I'll give it to you.**

 _ **Fall of The Magister - DA: Inquisition Trespasser Bard song**_

 **It's a wonderful song that I thought matched the tone of the story perfectly, as I believe for all of the songs I've selected.**


	4. Chapter 4

Strange Encounters

 **Author's note: So… Chapter 4, here it is. I was reading your reviews from last chapter and I must say, you all have a very keen eye and creative imagination. I love seeing what you guys think and predict for the future of this story. I noticed one thing that was recurring in both the reviews and PM's: no ones really figured out where the strange emerald-eyed dragoness falls in this story. Don't feel bad, I intended for that to happen. I've purposefully been withholding information from you and I'm not ashamed one bit; it's fun. So… Let's take a little time to divulge some of that; Just enough to tell you where she falls. ;)**

* * *

Strong and heated wings sliced through crisp whimsical air, small, colorful, intricately cut pieces of paper rushing past her face and across her scales. She watched a few consumed themselves in flame as they touched her; confetti. Cheers resonated through the air, her scales practically vibrating in frequency. Her head rang, screams and shrieks echoing in her mind; she shook herself, steeling her nerves. Snarling, she swung herself left, easily gliding past a sandstone-colored tower, hatchlings laughing and screaming as they launched colorful explosions into the sky from a balcony.

She landed, feet stumbling from the harsh impact and sending a wave of pain to her head, ears ringing.

Her head swam, terror gripping her mind as horrifying projections clambered at her paws. The grabbed and groped, threatening to pull her down into the abyss of madness. The warmth in her breast flickered, sending the visions away; she needed to hurry. Her scales vibrated, veins of what looked like heated rock coursed between her scales.

Her paw raised to gently massage her breast plates, cringing slightly. Light pierced through the darkness of the alley as wandering creatures moved past the opening, the distant sound of partying citizens echoing off the stone walls of the enclosing buildings. Her paw fell from her chest, returning to balance herself as she swayed slightly; the flight had been much too long for her ancient wings. She moved out of the darkness, making her way into the open semi-busy streets; dragons stared.

She scowled, the confused looks of others making her stand out. Why was it uncomfortable? What age was it? What was everyone celebrating? She needed answers. She calmly strode over to a young yearling dragon, no older than a hundred-twelve. A few others surrounded him but she paid no mind to them.

"Drake, which city is this?"

Startled, the young dragon visibly shrank before placing a forepaw over his eyes, a nervous laugh escaping him.

"By my scales… Don't sneak up on a dragon like that. I thought you were my mother from the sound of your voice." The drake finally stared up at her, his paw falling back beneath him.

"I urge you to answer me, your city's in danger." She was intimidating to say the least, especially to that of a young dragon.

"...Warfang, you're in Warfang…" He fumbled his words, mentally tripping.

The dragoness looked around, the entire street staring at her; she rolled her eyes.

"Where can I find those in charge?" She barked.

He along with a few other handful of dragons, pointed to the massive lit building in the night sky, each one of them a smile on their face, happy to help.

"The guardians," another added, a dragoness from the group.

She deftly bowed her head, a gesture the dragons returned before she began to make her way down the street to the large temple. The roads were slick with moist dirt; a storm must have recently passed through here, either that or a few ice dragons had decided to play a game of freeze tag. She couldn't stop the smirk that formed on her lips; if only for a moment, she let her stoic mask slip.

It quickly faded.

Streamers hung low above her head, so low that several had gotten snagged, now decorating her horns. She grumbled, picking the festive bands of paper from her crown. A small group of hatchlings giggled, finding her struggles humorous. She shook her head in false amusement, already sick of this city and its ignorance. She came from a time of honor and war, whereas everyone in this city reeked of idiocy; Surely there was someone here that hadn't grown 'fat' from luxury.

She hoped, desperately hoped that the dragons this city considered their leaders were capable of more than parties. What good could come of celebrating? She felt as if she could grow sick.

The emerald eyed dragon passed a few wandering monks, deep harmonic bellows reaching her ears. She felt herself shudder, the choir tunes dark and unsettling. They were an odd sight on a night of festivities and considering how much more festive the city was, they seemed out of place.

A wandering wolf slowly approached, stopping just ahead of her. He wore a simple brown cloak, the fabric ragged and dirty like the sack a farmer would use to hold his crop; it most certainly didn't look comfortable to wear. The hood was worn down so that it revealed his face, his muzzle old and scarred. However, his eyes spoke stories, old ones, like those a wise monk would share with children on a spring afternoon. She collected her confidence, putting herself on guard, her senses raising numerous flags. She slowly approached the stranger, not sure what he wanted or why she felt he wanted anything at all, only that it felt like the right thing to do.

He spoke with an aged voice, a smile on his muzzle.

"I know why you're here."

The dragoness raised an eyebrow, her talons unsheathed and digging into the cobbled street.

"We share the same intent, to ensure the safety of the flame. I warn you, they have forgotten the old ways, forgotten you. They won't believe you, trust you, not until it counts." He shook his pelt, dew and confetti falling to the street.

The dragoness gazed into the sky, the massive lit tower shrouding the entire city with its size. Her mind drifted, eyes growing distant as memories flooded her mind. She was reminiscing, thinking back to her own times.

"I shan't need their trust. If they doom themselves so be it; I'll carry out my oath alone if I must."

The wolf chuckled, slowly turning into a cough then to a wheeze; silence.

The dragoness glanced down to see him gone; all that remained was the loose confetti where he once stood. She snorted, clouds of steam drifting up from her nostrils; her stride quickened as she made her way to the temple of Warfang. She would much rather fly seeing as how it was quicker than walking but her wings ached. They had grown out of practice when it came to traveling long distances; walking was all she was left with. Dragons smiled and waved at her, something she ignored as she passed them. It may have seemed rude but it wasn't imoral. Smiles and waves were for friends, none of which spoke true for her; they were strangers. Hatchlings scampered across the street at the foot of a long trail of stairs, chasing each other and sparring playfully.

"Keep your paws firm on the ground. Don't let your guard down, not even to your friends." Her voice was crisp, speaking from experience and wisdom she had learned the hard way long ago.

The hatchlings didn't seem to understand, too young to appreciate her words; they would learn soon enough. They would have to. A teal dragoness quickly rushed out and herded the small dragons away from her, sending a scowl in her direction. She returned the sentiment. Journeying on, she made her way towards the set of stairs that were only few paces away.

Looking up, she steadily raised her paws, one ahead of the other as she made her way up the stairs that led to the prodigious construct in the center of the city: the dragon temple. Once at the top, she turned to face the city, eyes squinting in an attempt to see outside the city walls. Nothing looked wrong; this city had no idea what was coming. It was fortunate that she got here early, allowing the city time to prepare.

She turned back. Facing the temple and steadying herself, she practically burst through the doors as she entered. Her eyes scanned the room, quickly assessing it for anyone of importance she could talk to. Her thoughts were interrupted as a small trio of dragons strode down a set of stairs to her left.

"Good evening, what can we do to help you?" A petite silver and blue streamlined dragon spoke. "I'm Fendrir, the lightning guardian. Its fortuitous that we meet on a special night like this."

She rolled her eyes, his motives more obvious than the horns on his head. The others must have noticed as well; a dullgrey-scaled drake nudged him off to the side. From the looks of him he looked to be an earth dragon, stalagmites projecting themselves from his joints and spine; he reminded her of someone.

"What can we do for you?" The drake bowed politely.

"It's not a matter of how you can help me, as I'm very capable. You, however are not." The dragoness confidently strode up to the group.

"I've news of an oncoming attack on this city. I've flown far to tell you this and I demand your attention."

The four dragons turned to each other, their demeanor switching from that of relaxed to concerned.

"We can discuss this in private. It's obvious you're serious," A saturated orange dragon spoke calmly, gesturing to a small entryway that resides just behind her.

She nodded, swiftly making her way into the room and sitting down, waiting for the guardians to follow. The room was simple, a large wooden table with a map of the city as well as the surrounding lands. However, this map seemed much too small to represent the dragon lands.

"You're a foreigner," The orange-scaled dragon spoke, his words more of a statement than a question. His voice was thick with a strange resonating accent that slurred a few of his words. ' _Ur ah forunner,'_ is more what it sounded like.

"Of sorts. Where's the rest of the map? I won't be able to place where the attack will be coming from unless I have a complete map."

"You really are a foreigner," The silver blue drake from earlier snickered before once again being silenced by the dark grey earth dragon.

"That's all there is," The earth dragon spoke deeply, his eye ridges raised in a studious manner.

The quick-witted drake was testing her nerves enough to make her realize she would be talking to the remaining leaders. If he was the best 'Warfang' had to offer then the city would fall. Her eyes scanned the map, looking for the mountains she had flown across so that she could get her bearings. They hung at the very edge of the map, which according to the direction dial was North, It was enough.

"I can't be certain but the attack will be coming from the North West, a large force sent to infiltrate your walls and bring your city down from within."

The others accepted that, nodding in unison. The strange-tongued fire drake spoke again.

"And who can we expect to attack us? There hasn't been a threat of this scale for… 364 years."

The emerald-eyed dragoness reared her head, eyebrow raised. Peace was an obvious luxury these dragons exploited as much as possible. Processing the question, she answered.

"An undead legion set to consume and overrun all in their path."

The dragons burst into laughter. She fumed, heat pulsing through her body.

"You bloody idiots! Can't you tell how serious this is?! I've flown miles to warn you!"

They laughed more.

"Miles?! That's not very far, now is it? Who put you up to this, was it Hadlor? That Dracolith dragon's humor knows no bounds!" The Fire drake was getting on her nerves.

She raised an eyeridge, pondering his words for a moment.

"Dracolith? As in the great city of dark dragons?"

They laughed once again.

"Dark dragons?! We haven't seen so much as a black scale in these lands for centuries. You really are a funny one! Great Malsmite prank, absolutely magnificent!" Fendrir wheezed, nearly falling over if not for the steadying hand of the Earth drake.

The dragoness tempered, eyes glaring holes into the drakes. She cast one of her forepaws to the side, kicking up loose dirt that had culminated on the floor. A faint growl bubbled in her throat, the taunting voices putting her on edge.

"Don't you understand what I'm telling you?! Your city is in danger, and you mean to laugh at me while the enemy looms over us?! Not one of you doubt your own judgment? Would you truly risk the safety of all that live in this city for humor?" She berated, some of the laughs dying before starting up again.

"What's the other option, believing the words of a foreign dragoness who claims that an army of undead dragons is marching towards us?" The earth dragon was the only one who seemed to have a stable mind; she could respect that but that didn't stop her from boiling his words.

"I would expect you to take your job as protectors seriously," She fumed, her words sharp. A distant thud reached here ears, the sound of the foyer doors opening.

"Oh we do, just not pranking dragons like you." His accent seemed to worsen, laughter making it thicker. ' _O weh du, jus naut pronkin dragn's lak yooo.'_

She growled, mouth turning up in a snarl. Her talons flexed against stone, holes and scrapes raking the floor under her paws. She cast her gaze aside, back to the entrance of the room, the sounds of dragons talking having caught her attention. Perhaps they could be of use.

She froze, eyes locked on the form of two dragons wandering through the foyer, a third slowly approaching them.

She shifted around the table so that she couldn't be seen through entryway, her breath coming out in shudders as she steadied herself. Her head swam, nauseated as she waited patiently for her chance.

She would end this war before it began.

The flame would be saved.

* * *

Spyro and Cynder walked the streets of Warfang, laughing and sharing stories. It had been much too long since they had been around one another and it felt good to exchange adventurous tales.

"You never shared where you went, other than saying you flew west." Spyro's voice felt genuine, not as antagonistic as before.

"I flew south, first, until I reached the Great Mushroom Forest. I saw your home. I'm really sorry that so much of it was destroyed."

Spyro deftly nodded his head, eyes haunted for just a brief second. He shook himself; it was gone.

"I didn't lose what counted that day, that's what matters." He gave a smile, a hurt smile, like one she would make.

He continued,

"They lived happy lives, my family."

Cynder nuzzled his shoulder reassuringly.

"You wouldn't have it any other way." She giggled slightly, lightening the mood and putting a smile on Spyro's face.

"What's that supposed to mean, I'm demanding?" Spyro playfully flicked her horns with his.

Cynder laughed a little more heartily.

"No, you're just… always helping in the best way you can." Cynder hummed, smirking up at the purple dragon beside her. Was he even full grown? Was she? Would he grow to be the size of Malefor? Her mind drifted to these thoughts for just a second before she shuddered and cast them aside.

"What happened after you went to the Forest?"

Cynder pursed her lips, confidence in their conversation waning. She wasn't quite sure if she was ready to share very much.

"I… Flew to the Jade Isles, and that's when I flew west. There I decided to take things slow, found myself a warm bed and house. It was rough, being alone; I wasn't always sure what to do, you always knew what to do."

Cynder gushed, words spilling from her mouth. Why was this happening, because of Spyro?

"I didn't think… I would see you again for a long time. I would try to convince myself to come back every year. Eventually I came across this young pink dragoness." Cynder laughed, shaking her head at the memory of her.

"She was… unique, wouldn't stop talking about you to save her life; she brags for you. I'm sure she has a thing for Spyro the Purple Dragon." Both of them laughed, comedic relief praised.

"We studied… I'm not much of a reader, but when you're alone with a stranger, you pick up a few things to strengthen your mind."

Spyro nodded.

"I'm a vagabond myself. After the war, not much was left for me. After I found Ignitus, I flew from town to town searching for any work I could find, something that could keep me distracted."

Cynder gave a semi nod, semi shake of her head, pondering that a moment.

"I wouldn't exactly call myself a vagabond; unlike you, I didn't move around very much."

Spyro nodded and shrugged.

The pair passed by a large group of celebrating hatchlings. They flew around their heads, singing a childish song, _'K.I.S.S.I.N.G.'_ Cynder rolled her eyes and Spyro playfully berated them for being up past their bedtime. She laughed when he got a face full of confetti; the duo kept walking.

"Sparx has great great great grandchildren if you'd ever like to meet them." Spyro shook his head, knocking confetti off to the ground.

"I'd love that!" Cynder warmed at the thought of Spyro's brother settling down. It meant maybe, just maybe…

"We'll see the guardians first though, they'll want to hear about our return," Spyro interrupter her thoughts.

"Oh, of course. Have you met them?" Cynder ducked her head as a firework shot up just beside her, launching into the sky and exploding into a magnificent magenta star.

The purple dragon admired it for a moment, his mind drifting. He steadied himself, turning back to face her.

"A while back. They take their work pretty seriously. Of course, they do have their quirks."

Cynder giggled. Giggled? By the ancients she's grown soft. She quickly pursed her face, making herself seem stern.

"Yeah, just like that," Spyro teased.

Cynder guffawed, playfully batting the back of Spyro's head.

He laughed harder.

The dark scaled-dragons looked up, making their way up the long series of stairs that would bring them to the temple. The pair looked back at the city, taking in its glory; words were just too small for the dragon city now.

"I've looked at this city so many times tonight and I still…" Spyro cut himself off.

"Can't stop seeing it for the first time," Cynder finished.

The two dragons smiled at each other, turning to face the doors, strode through. They wandered into a massive dome circular shaped room, the ceiling rising hundreds of feet and converging into a dome. A massive chandelier dangled above the room, light reflecting off the walls and ceiling so that no corner went unlit. Just to the left of them was a large archway that lead to a hall, connecting the foyer to the rest of the temple, same with the right of them. There was a large alcove in front of them, banners of all the previous guardians hanging on the walls surrounding a vision pool.

"This place is much bigger than I remember," Cynder gasped. Her voice echoed around the room. He entire plaza was eerily quiet, aside from a few distant hints of a conversation ahead of them.

"It's usually not so empty. It's the celebration, everyone too busy enjoying themselves outside," A new voice interrupted.

The two dragons turned around, greeted by the sight of a large frost-scaled dragoness, her horns bent back like they were melting. Her breast plates boasted an elegant white, designs etched into them and around her neck; they looked like waves.

The dragoness bowed. Spyro and Cynder did the same.

"Where are the other guardians?" Spyro moved ahead of Cynder, his voice slightly concerned. Why was he worried?

The Ice dragon swung her head to an arch way that sat just beyond the pool of visions, the sound of conversing dragons confirming it. A loud laugh echoed through the dim quiet.

"Sharing stories most likely. I see you brought a friend. I'm Aquaria." She gave another formal bow. She seemed incredibly calm and collected, a trait she could respect deeply. She hoped she came across in the same light.

"I'm-" Aquaria cut her off before she could finish.

"Cynder. I realized from your scales. Not many other dark-scaled dragonesses fit your description. It's lovely to meet you." She gave a small giggle.

Cynder opened and closed her mouth, trying to decide what she would say next, not expecting such a greeting. After all, she had been gone, missing for centuries. Or did they know where she was the whole time?

A booming voice rang through the archway.

"Aquaria, is that you!? Get in here and meet this bluffing scaled dragon!" The voice seemed slightly slurred, not intoxicated but foreign; an accent.

Looking at each other, Cynder stared, her eyes confused and curious. Her tail lashed from side to side, the tip of her blade sharpening itself against the stone, a nasty habit she picked up while away.

"The things Fendrir will say…" Aquaria said more to herself than to the pair of dragons in front of her. "They shouldn't antagonize him."

Cynder turned back to Spyro, almost glaring at the purple drake for answers; he laughed.

"The Lightning guardian, he loves to share his… stories." Spyro proceeded to follow the frost dragon, making their way to archway; Cynder trailed behind them.

The purple dragon was the second to walk into the room. However, upon passing the threshold, he was thrown to his back, the tailblade of a magma-scaled dragon inches from his throat.

"Filthy purple dragon, we were warned about you, that you would raise hell! Is it you?! Are you the one leading death to us all?!" The dragoness spat, the heat radiating off of her practically suffocating, even for dragons.

Spyro's eyes met hers; she looked terrified.

The room went silent.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I barely succeeded in getting this chapter up before it rolled into the new month and for that I have several friends to thank for beta reading. I will be the first to admit that this chapter had a small hiccup, completely my fault. I got way ahead of myself and wrote a few things that I quickly realized were a bit premature, not only that but even I had trouble chewing everything that I originally planned on presenting to you, so I know you would have as well; No offense. I love you guys. After a few major rewrite, I came to this. I hope you all enjoyed.**


	5. Chapter 5

The Fulcrum Hours

 **Author's Note: YES! Here it is! Chapter five! This one was a B* to write. It was scary running into writer block so early into this story. I could see what I wanted from this chapter but when I put the word into text, they didn't sound right. Alas, I did it anyways! It's nothing any of you need to worry about. It just happens. ALSO! As a semi-Important side note: I'm changing up how I seperate scenes that have selected songs. Music of course is completely optional. I only recommend it for those few people who get curious or want to get hit with a little extra "FEELS" while reading. From now on, scenes that have music will be separated by a double scene break (Two Lines) I don't want to interrupt the flow of the story by having to put in, "Start song" and "End Song." Anyways, here you go!**

 **SONG: Dark Souls 3 Soundtrack OST - Champion's Gravetender Great Wolf (Ashes of Ariandel) Shirrako.**

* * *

Warfang: A beacon of light for all to see and follow. A city where all dragons could congregate, celebrate, and settle down.

The invitation was too inviting, too tempting. The dead scoured, surrounding the city from all sides as they moved in under the cover of night. Drakes, took to the skies, fleets of all elements converging on the great city. They pushed forward, the hollow spirits of the past bringing themselves a new age.

They had no spiritual fires, their guidance taken from them and leaving nothing but ash and grief. There was an endless hunger, a seeking for sustenance and life.

A sound like thunder struck through the air, the beat of a lightning Drake's wings, dark whispers of the past hanging on his lips. He could no longer speak, tongue cut short and dry in his mouth, humiliated as he died; a gift from his murderer, taking his right to plea for his own life.

He flapped his wings, pushing himself to the clouds, forming the thunderheads of his strength. Light pulsed, streaking through the sky as it arced across his body; The purest and strongest form of energy was his to command. His waves burst, untempered power flowing through like the blood that once coursed through him. He needed might, and will to break those before him.

He roared.

The words he might say if he had the mind and ability to talk. There was nothing for him in this rebirth, only pain and ever-longing hunger. 'Help me, I'm sorry, forgive me…'

His will was not his own. All he knew from resurrection was defeat, pain, and murder. The lasting vengeance of a defeated drake. It mattered not who the punishment fell to, only that it fell, like the hammer of a deity…

Or the lightning strike of an anguished drake.

He would set this world aflame, imagining the warmth wash over him as he brought justice for himself.

He would claim his death right.

* * *

Cynder snarled, lips raised to reveal deadly pearl white teeth as her tail hung rigidly above her like a scorpion. Eyes locked onto the strange dragoness she paced forwards, slowly inching closer with her belly centimeters from the ground. The guardians looked much the same, circling around the hostile dragoness in an attack formation. Talons scraped against cold cobbled floors, the scrapes echoing off the walls.

The room had turned unnaturally dark, prominent shadows growing long in the outlining torchlight. Hissing, feral emerald slits darted between each surrounding dragon. Her scales grew hot, orange veins pulsing between them in sync with her heartbeat.

The dragoness was outnumbered, slaying the drake beneath her would only seal her fate; she wouldn't be leaving the room with what she wanted. Maybe stalling could work. That was the best option.

"It would seem I've earned your attention. Tell me, why do you choose to take me seriously now? Is it because I hold a drake's life in my claws?" She pushed her tailblade into Spyro's chest, not enough to pierce but enough to make him squirm.

The guardians faltered in their approach, taking a few steps back, afraid she might kill him if they drew to close; a safe assumption.

"The dragon's life you barter with is a war hero's. He saved the world," Cynder spat, flexing her claws.

Those words didn't sit right with the emerald-eyed dragoness. Did she have the wrong purple dragon? No, there was only ever mention of one.

"You lie. The purple dragon was long prophesied to destroy the world, not save it. Are you his lackies?" She glanced between the five dragons, head tilted down defensively. "Or loyal slaves?"

"Neither. You have your prophecy confused, lass. The purple dragon who was destined to threaten the world and tear it apart is long dead, thanks to the dragon you now hold in your paws and, the dragoness in front of you." Gwoalin the fire guardian gestured his head towards Cynder, her sea blue-green eyes clashing against bright jade.

"You're obviously scared and confused. You don't have any enemies here. Release him and we can talk." The voice belonged to Aquaria this time.

The dragoness faltered, the dim room incrementally growing brighter as her grip on Spyro slowly loosened. Perhaps they were telling the truth. She was lost, awoken in a new age; she could have missed a lot. Deciding it best to let the dragon go and keep a close watch on him she relinquished, tailblade pulling away from his chest and stepping back to show her passiveness.

Cynder released a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding, muscles quaking so suddenly that she nearly collapsed; the same could be said for the four elemental protectors. Spyro stood, backing away from the strange dragoness and resting beside Cynder; the presence of each other easing both of their nerves.

"Are you okay?" Cynder sounded worried, eyes running across his face and chest, something the purple dragon chuckled at.

"Im fine. The only thing she damaged was my pride, attacking me so easily." Cynder audibly hummed, happy Spyro's mood hadn't soured.

All eyes focused on the strange dragoness still surrounded on all sides. There were questions that needed to be answered. Detoren, the earth guardian spoke up this time.

"Who are you?"

Bowing her head, the dragoness spoke.

"My name is Eliesia. As I've already told the four of you," She answered, tail gesturing towards the guardians. "I'm here to warn you about the army of hollows marching towards this city."

"Hollows?" Cynder tilted her head.

"If I had time to explain everything, I would." The time wasn't the most sincere but it felt contrite.

"Something needs to be explained," Fendrir responded. The hostility in his voice didn't seem to improve the dragoness's mood.

Eliesia had to stifle a grumble, smoke drifting up from her nose to collect at the ceiling of the room.

"I'm here to help. You simply must listen to me."

Everyone noticeably jumped at the loud explosion of fireworks bombarding the night outside. The dragons could practically feel the vibrations, both in the air and ground. Aquaria seemed at ease the most: a true diplomat.

"We understand why you're here. We just can't be sure if we can trust you." Eliesia's tail lashed erratically, talons raising up to gently massage her breast plates.

"What do you have to lose if you believe me?"

All six dragons looked to each other, eyebrows raised and lips pursed. Everything about this dragoness's words spoke bad omens.

The explosions and screams outside suddenly turned chaotic, the earth shuddering below their paws and large stones falling loose from the ceiling. An earthquake? All dragons moved to the foyer, the chandelier that dangled above them swaying in the aftershock.

Cynder and Spyro were the first to approach the entrance, pushing against the massive wooden doors with their shoulders. The wood creaked, straining under the pressure but refusing to open; something was blocking the other side.

"We can't move it!" Cynder sounded panicked, flicking back to face the other dragons.

Detoren, the earth guardian stepped forward, shoulder and knees bending as he fell into an attack stance.

"Step back." Everyone did as told, clearing a path for him directly to the door.

Shoulder positioned in front of him, he charged, ramming into the doors like a battering ram and splintering the wood. Rock and rubble crumbled and cracked as his charge collided with the door; the debris was like paper.

Everyone followed, pushing through the large opening torn through the entrance. Cynder audibly gasped, mouth hanging open and eyes threatening to water.

Ash drifted through the air, glowing orange embers dancing lazily in the strong midnight breeze. The city burned, tornadoes and maelstroms of flame eating at every house, alley and street until they crumbled, adding plumes of smoke and more ash into the air. Echoes of wailing pain stricken dragons reverberated through the night, seeming to resonate even louder than the barrage of explosions erupting in every part of the metropolis There was a moment, a moment of silence and bewildered awe as the group of dragons beheld their city.

"Evacuate the city…" Eliesia was the first to speak, shattering the unbelieving calm that had taken hold of the group.

The guardians disappeared into the fray without another word, leaving Spyro and Cynder with the undead dragoness; she hadn't been lying after all. A lesson learned too late.

The air clapped, the three dragon's ears ringing as a torrent of lightning heads rained down from above. A lightning drake lancing attacks from his maw, tearing through the air; his wings glided ceaselessly above and around the towers and pillars of Warfang. The air above them rippled as he soared overhead, wind screaming as he passed.

"Who is that?" Spyro seethed. Something about this dragon's skill stood out.

Once again Eliesia's voice had the two dragons eyes looking to her. Head cast down, she spoke.

"Buy your guardians as much time as you can. Take care of Moldrar, distract him. I'll be doing the same. We regroup outside the city walls, away from their hungry eyes." She launched into the air, ash and smoke billowing behind her.

"Spyro-" Cynder didn't get to finish, the purple drake resting his forehead flush with hers.

"Stay safe, and defend the citizens. I'm going after… Moldrar." She made to argue but didn't have time, the violet-scaled dragon already racing off and launching into the sky.

Cynder watched him fly behind a city spire vanishing into a veil of smoke.

"Be careful…"

Looking to the city down the steps. she grounded herself. Cynder tore into the streets of warfang, lungs burning like hot embers. Smoke and ash practically flowed through and around the alleys and blazing buildings of Warfang, like rivers over stone; It sent the ebony dragoness into spasms and coughs.

Nothing was safe from the ever starving flames. Water coated in spilt cooking oil transformed once illustrious fountains into hellscaped spouts of fire.

"Help!" A distant masculine voice called out.

Head spinning on a swivel, Cynder searched, gaze combing through fire and cinders. Where was he? Why couldn't she find him? She waited for another call; it never came. Heart striking in her chest and head pounding, her breathing wheezed, almost whimpered. She felt an unforgiving wave of guilt pierce her stone mask, heart thrumming in her chest and ears; her head pulsed. The screams blurred, echoing in her mind as she spun in search of the voice.

Dragons soared overhead, Crippled and withering undead dragons slashed and fired at innocent Warfang citizens. Lighting, fire, fear, and poison, every element was unleashed upon the great dragon metropolis.

It was so much… too much…

Knocked from her thoughts, a group of young drakes and dragonesses shoved past her. Immediately, the dragoness caught sight of a large group of undead wolves and dragons, burning and feasting on any city remnants and stragglers they could catch.

Cynder snarled, her roar projecting itself from her lungs, a challenge met with equal contempt. The wolves jolted, jaws snapping and salivating as they pushed towards her untactfully. The black dragoness beat her wings, sending blazing smoke and glowing embers into their eyes and muzzles;they whimpered as they clawed at their noses and eyes.

Not quick enough to stand against her, Cynder fired off a concentrated blast of fear energy that scattered the remaining wolves. Unfortunately, the undead dragons had calculated their attack more consciously, one launching above while two charged her head on; she had to choose.

Tail flashing through the air, Cynder wrapped it around the weakened pillar of a crumbling building to her right. Lips snarling, she grimaced as she pulled; the still burning home crashed into the cobbled alley and agitated dead. Pain surged through Cynders body, vision flashing white; the third dragon had taken advantage of the opening, charging into her and knocking her down. Talons scraping against the street, her attacker skid across the stone as she slowed to a halt, glaring at the ebony dragoness before turning away. She was dazed, legs and body squirming as she lay on her side.

The sound of her attackers wings flapping had her staggering back up to her paws, muscles shaking under the straining pressure of recovery. A fading shadow of a dragon disappearing into smoke could vaguely be seen from the corner of her gaze. She gave chase, paws skittering on stone as she rounded corners. Paws and talons slipped and faltered, the ash and soot making it difficult to properly run.

Cynder collided against the crackling fire crested column of a weakened building, stone collapsing and crumbling into the streets behind her. Unfortunately, she lost sight of the fleeing dragoness, the smoke and smoldering remnants of the dragon city making it too difficult to navigate. Instead, the black female dragon focused on the other tasks: evacuation.

Taking a left at an intersection, she made her way to the commons area Spyro and Cynder had previously occupied earlier that night. Slowing her pace to a preserving stroll she carefully moved around what she hoped were the burning corpses of trees and plants. An agonized groan caught her ear and turned her head round to the left, there her eyes were met with the unconscious and prone form of a young wind drake that had been unlucky enough to get caught under a collapsing wooden beam from the stage.

Rushing over to him, Cynder propped the wooden construct on her back and pushed, legs burning and straining under the immense weight. Taking slow and deliberate steps forward, the beam moved off of the unconscious dragons body and eventually clear of him entirely. Ducking down and away, Cynder freed herself of the pressure on her back and moved to the injured dragon where she pawed at the drakes shoulder and snout to wake him up. Meanwhile, her head spun like a swivel, combing through the smoke filled sky, looking for any sign of Spyro, the guardians, or Eliesia.

Suddenly, a shadow swooped through the air above her, air whizzing as it passed her. Following it, Cynder immediately recognized who the shadow belonged to. The purple dragon hovered a few hundred meters above her, wings flapping as he turned in a circle, looking for something.

"Spyro!" She cried out his name.

* * *

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

* * *

Spyro snarled, Moldrar's tail swaying inches from his maw as he they weaved between the crumbling Warfang architecture. Ash swept past his face. The heat radiating off of the consuming flames burned his eyes, making him shake his head periodically.

A fireball flew from Spyro's mouth, missing Moldrar by mere inches. Instead, it crashed into a crumbling tower, stone walls shattering under the attacks burning force; rock showed down to the streets.

Pushing himself harder, Spyro flapped his wings with every ounce of strength he could muster. Paw outstretched, He grabbed, talons digging into the drake's scaled tail. A roar sounded from the dragons lips, head turning back to look at him before Spyro felt the tail get ripped from his grasp. The dragon shot a concentrated bolt of energy into a large crumbling pillar just to the left of him, forcing the purple dragon to abandon his trail. Large outcroppings of stone crumbled, nearly crashing into his wings as they fell.

Focusing back on the fight, Moldrar was nowhere to bee seen, vanished. Head and eyes pivoting, Spyro cast his gaze side to side as he scanned the burning remains of a once great city. Flying higher, Spyro circled the streets of the city in case he had landed, trying to make a clean getaway.

Two clashing dragons soared passed him, a brown and musty-green dragon immediately recognizable as Detoren; he fought furiously against a black-gnarled spined drake until they both disappeared into a cloud of smoke.

Soaring higher Spyro looked down, trying to spot anything from above until someone shattered through the surrounding cacophony, calling his name.

"Spyro!"

The purple dragons body lurched, head snapping to the right as someone crashed into him. Scaled bodies crashed against each other, the sound of metal clashing; he roared in pain, talons lashing wildly at the tight grip that held him captive. Talons dug into his waist, torso and abdomen, blood trickling down sharp claws and dripping into the flames below. He could hear the dragon laugh, voice contorted and impish like a nightmare.

The grip that held him in place suddenly disappeared; he felt his stomach jump to his throat, equilibrium disoriented. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, Spyros wings flapping wildly as his body flipped and turned in the air. The ground grew closer until finally his wings unfurled, catching wind and slowing his descent; it still wasn't enough.

His paws slammed into the ground, buckling under the force and sending his shoulder into the dirt. Soil, rock and grass kicked up into the air as his body cratered into the earth; a long streak trailed behind him.

Eyes fluttering, Spyro stumbled to his feet fumbling and collapsing. Sand and dirt clustered at his mouth, sticking to his lips and saliva. Spitting and shaking his head he tried to stand again, ultimately tripping and collapsing once more. His entire body throbbed, bones aching, muscles quivering as he finally managed to stand himself up.

By then it was too late.

The thudding of paws hitting ground reached his ears, the opposing dragon landing just a few feet ahead of him. Lips turned up in a half snarl half grimace, Spyro charged forward, shoulder raised and aimed at the chest; he took the initiative.

The attack was too obvious, choreographed. Easily exploiting Spyro's mistake, the drake thrust his own shoulder between Spyros ribs, a loud crack filling the air as the purple dragon dropped, releasing a agonized roar. In a flash Moldrar's mouth was wrapped around Spyros neck, teeth like razors tearing gashes into his scales.

Spyro kicked, knocking one of the forepaws from beneath him resulting in both dragons caving to the ground. Gasping in relief as the pressure on his neck disappeared, Spyro saw his opportunity. Purple claws wrapped around silver chitinous horns, lifting them upwards and raising his head. With any strength he could find, Spyro slammed Moldrar's skull into the ground; the sheer force of it making his paws throb. It wasn't enough,

The edges of Spyro's vision flashed white as a stray paw connected with his jaw, toppling the violet-scaled hero. His feet staggered beneath him, head swinging wildly as he blindly fought for his bearings. His vision cleared up just in time for him to dodge an oncoming charge from the lightning drake, paws thudding past him.

Spyro's claws tore into the ground, uprooting grass and small flora as he skidded across the soil; Moldrar left tracks much the same. Roaring, the lightning drake's talons pulsed with electrical charge. Streaks of blue, white and gold danced around his paws. Spyro was forced to backpedal, the gap between him and his adversary closed much to quickly for preparation.

Moldrar's paw swung left, aimed high. Spyro ducked, parrying the attack with a shoulder break. However, a wing hooked around his horns, pulling him forwards and into a swiping attack that sliced his chest. Luckily Spyro's own lightning element counter acted Moldrar's, lessening much of what was already a painful wound.

Tail piercing through Moldrar's wing membrane, Spyro distracted the lightning dragon long enough to free himself. Unfortunately, there wasn't much of a reprieve. Moldrar relentlessly pushing forward, another set of cuts etched themselves into his cheek with a successful claw landing from his adversary; he was too fast.

Spyro gulped, Moldrar's wing bone pushing against his throat and theatrically body slamming him into the ground. Paw pressed into the purple drake's chest, Moldrar reared his head triumphantly, jaws opened wide and mouth aimed at Spyro's neck: the finishing blow…

It never came.

Spyro watched as Moldrar's body was thrown to the ground just left of him, a contorting mass of wings, talons, and tails: one set gold and silver the other black and magenta.

Cynder.

The black dragoness snarled, one of her claws tearing into Moldrar's left eye; a strange black liquid immediately began to seep from the wound. Silver and gold tail quickly wrapping around her neck, she was thrown off, legs kicking as she was tossed to her side. Desperation obviously taking over, the lightning drake took to the sky, wings flapping haphazardly. The wound Spyro had inflicted earlier on his wing serving its purpose: it was difficult to fly; still, he tried to flee. Thrusting his body into the air with a powerful flap of his wings and push of his legs, Spyro closed the gap.

The purple dragons mouth wrapped around his neck, teeth tearing through the scales and a rotten tasting liquid spilling into his mouth; he had to force himself not to gag.

Moldrar roared, a noticeable difference in this exclamation than the previous ones. There was a pained whine at the end, rasped and ragged like a wounded elk. It wasn't a sound Spyro hadn't heard before; hunting wildlife, spyro had grown accustomed to it. However, to hear it coming from another dragon… It felt alien… wrong…

There wasn't much time to contemplate a moral compass however; the battle was still very much alive. Eyes clamping shut and head pulling back, Spyro pushed down with his paws against Moldrar's back while simultaneously ripping his teeth from the drake's neck. The dragon fell, body loose as it collided against the ground, ash, soot, and embers tossed into the air.

Spyro landed next to him, head hung low and mouth dripping with the vile rotten blood of the mighty undead elder drake; his chest heaved and throbbed with every labored breath. The pained and struggling intake of air could still be heard through Modrar's nose, tail and legs sporadically twitching. The lightning dragons body rested broken, right wing snapped and draped across his side and stomach; the bone was snapped clean. It could only be assumed the left wing was much the same, if not worse. Thick tar-like blood gushed from his neck, coming out in spurts with every attempt to swallow.

Moldrar's faded dull grey eyes gazed intently, frantic and flicking wildly in the corners of his vision. Turning away, Spyro couldn't help but to look to Cynder, confused horror struck violet irises staring into dazed sea green. What were two young dragons to do with a slowly dying drake at their mercy? It wasn't a moral dilemma either of them were accustomed to.

Neither of them had a choice in the matter however, Eliesia landing a few feet away from them.

The fire dragoness wilted, sitting just above Moldrar's head and drawing the drakes attention away from Spyro. Paw sliding under his head, she cradled him, her own lowering down to whisper soothingly into his ear. Her tail slowly crept and slithered up to his chest, her sharp tailblade directed to the left portion of his breast: his heart. The two young dragons watched, mind screaming at them to turn away but eyes forced to watch the mercy rule before them. Spyro could only pick up a few stray words she whispered to him.

"I… We… Remember… Link…"

He couldn't be sure what they meant or if they were simply told to bring solace to the undead dragon but before he had chance to ponder any of it, Eliesia's tail quickly punctured his chest plates. The scales caved and cracked, scraping and sliding against the invading blade like armor caving around a sword. The dragon gave an audible gasp like a massive weight had been lifted from him; in a way, it had. Moldrar's wings, head, neck and legs went limp, already dull-faded eyes losing any life that may have been considered remnant in them. Spyro looked to Eliesia, hoping to find any sign of remorse or frustration but discovering neither; her head was turned away.

Moldrar's lifeless body slowly disintegrated, scale, flesh, and bone turning to ash that rose up to join with the already grey and smoke filled sky. The surrounding air rapidly cooled, the falling soot now turned cold like snowflakes; the sensation was surreal. As time passed it slowly dispersed, consumed by the wrathful radiating fire.

The cruel conceptions of reality washed over the two young dragons like a tsunami, both their heads turning to lay gaze upon the ruins and remnants of the once great city of Warfang now left to burn and swelter under the influence of cursed undead. Their mouths hung agape, paws deftly pulling them towards the falling city. Cynder stifled a sob, eyes watering as she brought a paw to cover her mouth.

Eliesia however had her eyes set on other realities, eyes tracing several dragonate forms as they flew through the Sky and abandoning the city; others stayed. Another day, another battle, another age, another breath of fire doomed to ignite.

"Gather any survivors. We move somewhere safe and collect ourselves."

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 **Author's Note: This was a major chapter. I had a lot of time to think about how and when I wanted to introduce the turning point. Don't worry for any of you who still have lots of questions; I promise they will be answered. For a while I was worried that chapter five would be too soon. However, I feel if I were to delay it any further, you guys would get bored, wondering when the action and drama was going to kick in.**

 **This chapter was special for a lot of reasons; It was my first go at an action and fighting sequence scene. I feel as if it turned out great and was rather well paced and not to drawn out. However, you are the audience. Please tell me what you think in either review or PM; I would love to know what you guys think. Your opinions do matter and I hope you all know that. Each review is equally loved and taken into account.**

 **Shout out to Dardarax for beta-reading, you rock! Go check it some of his work, you won't be disappointed.**

 **Thank you ALL! Thank you for your support 4Dragons. Please go check him out as well as GoldenGriffiness**


	6. Chapter 6

A Beckoning Bell

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 **Author's note: Here it is! The latest installment for AOA. (Yay, I got a story abbreviation already) This chapter was very fun to write. I love creating this world for you guys and I intend to keep giving more of it to you. To have a song chosen for this chapters theme should you choose to listen to it. You don't even have to play it while reading, just give it a listen should you think of it.**

 _ **Longing to Know: Alex Roe**_

 **This channel makes amazing music and I highly recommend giving him a listen if you enjoy any kind of remixes or Bloodsouls soundtracks. With no more distractions, i release you.**

* * *

 _Flashback_

Waves crashed against sea stacks as the tides rolled in. Trees decorated the mountainside of what was the beginning of a nearly endless mountain range. It was roughly midnight with the moon at its peak, its magnificent bright rays dancing across damp wet stone. However, screams and roars conflicted the evening's beautiful picture it had painted. Explosions muffled by stone rumbled through the regal walls of a beautiful cathedral.

Inside, the main hall was in chaos, dragons fiercely engaged in combat with each other. Species long rivals fought with tooth, claw and breath. It was light against dark, hate and disarray against balance and order. Confined to a room in battle where no winner could proclaim victory, the lines between ally and enemy were blurred.

A boulder soared over Moldrar's head, shattering as it crashed against a column. The support toppled, crushing a number of dragons that had been unlucky enough to be in its way.

Stumbling, Moldrar looked to his left and fired off a lightning lance that sent a fear dragoness twitching to the ground. Spinning around he caught a glimpse of his leader fighting off another dragon, whom he couldn't be sure. They were at the far end of the hall, other dragons fighting around them.

Pushing towards her, he fired off another lance into the chest of a shadow drake that charged him; the drake's eyes rolled into the back of his head as he tumbled to the stone floor rigidly.

Fire flashed across the ground, scorching a pair of poison drake's and dragoness's paws before climbing upwards. Their screams filled Moldrar's ears as they burned alive. He looked back up to focus on the form of two dragoness's locked head to head.

He was pinned to the ground from the sudden pressure of a drake crashing into him, a dark growl vibrating next to his ear. His wings and paws were held to the ground, a tail blade held in his mouth inhibiting his movement; he was helpless.

"You're going to watch," a familiar and menacing voice boasted, words messy and sputtered as if he were spitting them at him.

All he could do was helplessly struggle against his captors hold on him. He had to do something.

"Elies-!" His words were cut short as his tongue was severed from his mouth, blood filling his throat and a bitter smell filling his nostrils. He gagged, crimson spattering against the ground.

The long muscle of a tail quickly wrapped around his throat, tightening until he was forced to claw at the ground and flap his wings against his attacker. Blood filled his esophagus, jaw opening and closing as he desperately tried to push himself away.

His neck burned, the inside boiling like scalding water had been forced down his throat. Next, all he could feel was the pressure around his neck; his head swam.

Darkness crowded the corners of his vision, slowly growing until there wasn't nothing left to see, the last glimpses of life and reality fading to be replaced with cold and black.

As the mighty fell...

...The Wicked Rose...

 _End flashback_

* * *

Eliesia was startled from her day dream, paws shaking unsteadily in the wilting grass. Faded leaves fell from the tree tops, fluttering around her nose and body; they drifted hopelessly through the woods.

The two dragons beside her looked to her warily before glancing over and at each other. Walking in sync the three led a trail of stragglers, wandering aimlessly through the forest.

Heads hung low, tears of salt and blood trickled down to fall and nestle in the soot covered grass. The ragged and faltering breaths of defeated and aimless dragons was the most audible sound in the forest; they were lost.

Purposely slowing her pace, Cynder meandered her way to Spyro; they proceeded to walk side by side.

"I have too many questions." Her voice carried a lilt, holding back tears.

Eyes flickering to glance at her absently, Spyro nodded his head falteringly; he swallowed, coating his dry throat.

"I know… I'm sure they'll be answered."

Spyro's voice didn't fill her with confidence. If anything he sounded more terrified than her.

Instead of looking to his eyes, she looked to his scars.

Blood trickled from a gash along his leg, following the path of muscle and tendon until it reached his paw, then to soil. Teeth marks racked his throat while claw slashes decorated his chest. His face looked frail, bruised and solemn.

"What we aren't told, we'll learn." Spyro tried to smile.

Stray rays of moonlight filtered through the forest roof, long flickering shadows of leaves and branches cascaded across ash smothered scales.

"It's still night… How? We've been walking for too long."

There was an echo of murmurs from behind as civilian also notice her observation; she had spoken too loudly.

Cringing as she looked to the refugees and back, Cynder stumbled. Paw and talon colliding against rock; she barely caught herself.

"It must only feel that way." Spyros statement didn't sound reassuring. It only served to remind everyone what they had endured.

It was at this moment that Eliesia spoke up.

"No. The pale moon has risen and will hang in the sky until the undead have succeeded. This isn't your world anymore."

Cynder couldn't stop the flare of anger that suddenly pulsed through her.

"So it's yours?" Her paws drew her closer to the foreboding stranger, mouth drawn and eyebrows angled: a challenge that reconciled no prominent reaction.

The anger faded as quickly as it had arisen, snout and expression loosening to a defeated frown. It was futile to exaggerate.

"We will only survive through sacrifice."

Spyro stepped forward this time, gesturing for Cynder to fall back.

"Sacrifice is out of the question. We don't risk lives."

Eliesia gave a half raised eyeridge, looking to the small herd of dragons behind him.

"The choice isn't yours. However… lives weren't necessarily what I was referring to."

Spyro's face contorted, front left paw pulling back as his head and neck recoiled slightly.

"Then what else would you have us sacrifice?"

Her expression never changed, face unwaveringly cold and distant; her stoicism was staggering.

"Your comfort, your livelihood, your precious innocence and your…" She glanced at him sharply from the side. "Idealism."

The truths crowded Spyro's shoulders and conscience. Legs quaking and gaze falling, the purple drake felt helpless, alone even. The dragoness before him seemed to know so much, how?

 _What did she know of sacrifice?_ His gaze flicked to the shoulders and back of the dragoness before him. The question wasn't malicious, but genuine wonder. _What was she hiding?_

A bell tolled in the distance. Spyro and Cynder's head jerked, looking to one another before staring in the direction of the disrupting sound.

"Is that a-?" Cynder held her hopes, if only minimally.

"I think it is." Spyro interrupted.

Eliesia looked to the two protectors confusedly, glancing over the crowd to see the same lost looks on the survivors. This time there was something being withheld from her; she didn't like it.

"Everyone. Follow us." Cynder's stern voice couldn't hide the small hint of hope that had risen within her.

The two companions set off at a brisk pace into the foliage, pushing past rotten branches and wilted leaves; they grew more distant with passing moments. Suddenly one brave follower lead another, a trail of dragons following in the same direction until it was only Eliesia left alone.

Eyes forlorn, she craned her head in the direction of the bell. Taking one step lead to another until she was shoulder high in leaves and shrubbery. Luckily the forest ceiling grew taller, allowing her to raise her head more freely.

Murmurs began to reach her ears. The shuffling of paws and bell chimes dangling in the wind had her quickening her pace. The forest ceiling seemed to grow with every step until it eventually opened up into a massive pocket, leaves and branches forming a large wildlife dome that towered above a large stone structure. Shimmering rays of moonlight shrouded the air and construct before her; a Cathedral.

A field of elegant white petals flowers flourished at the foot of the great chapel, decoratively carven tombstones scattered across the grounds, a few occasionally grouping together. Perhaps a family buried with one another.

For a brief moment she felt alive, heart beating before falling silent once again. Tears brimmed her lower lids before they were blinked away.

A bell atop the large tower toled, the ringing echoing through the night as iron struck iron. The refugees gathered around the entryway, old and eroded wooden doors slowly opening in a loud cacophony of rumbles and creaks. A solitary body stood in the entrance; an frail wolf in rotten robes.

Spyro hesitantly stepped forward, kicking up ethereal dust with every pawstep; it shimmered and waved in the moonlight.

"Welcome Warfang, to Odeum of Ash." the stranger spoke. "I am an emissary, sent to aid you in your tiresome journey. Heeehe he he." The wolf eyed Spyro and Cynder, a gleam in his eye.

Dragons murmured anxiously, the nervous shuffling of ps and scales echoing through the silent field. Hatchlings clung to their mother fathers, whispering questions that no parent should have to answer. _'When can I sleep? When will we eat? are we safe? Why can't we find a new home?'_ Eliesia felt a twang of sympathy, hardened features softening as her masked slipped.

"You're safe, go inside and collect yourselves," Eliesia interrupted from behind, drawing numerous confused stares.

Spyro and Cynder looked to her, eyes bewildered and questioning. Did she know this wolf? Did they? He felt too familiar.

Dragons slowly and hesitantly crept towards the strange wolf before disappearing into the newly discovered shelter; the three leading dragons remained outside. There was something familiar about this unfamiliar face. Neither Spyro nor Cynder could shake the feeling.

"You all have endured a frightful evening. You are safe here." The wolf gestured with frailty, hand held out to the side and towards the door while his other dipped in a messy bow.

Cynder stepped through first, disappearing into the temple. Spyro was second, taking a moment to regard the Wolf before crossing the threshold. Eliesia gave a cold stare, eyeing the familiar stranger before standing up to enter.

Warmth washed over the dragons as they entered, a sweet smelling aroma wafting through the air as they entered, moonlight filtering through the doorway behind them and into the cathedral.

They pulled into a large room lit by candlelight, petal covered pillars rising up to secure a cathedral-esque ceiling, lanterns dangling sparsely, each one at different heights than the rest. Old pottery topped with what appeared to be a discolored wax and burning candles crowded every corner of the church; every dark shadow was covered in soothing orange glows. Old embroidered rags and rugs dangled on thin wires strung from wall to wall and pillar to pillar; more covered the ground.

Spyro and Cynder wandered aimlessly, head spinning on a swivel as they took everything in with agape jaws.

Altars of candles and vases lined the far left wall while stray racks of herbs and meat covered the right. A stone staircase rose up in the back, leading to an balcony floor. A collection of messily stacked books and dusty bookshelves crowded the floor and cobbled sidings, a library that could have rivaled Aquaria's.

Spyro took time to admire the atmosphere, taking note of the relaxed and calm faces of the dragons of Warfang.

The room was a well furnished and organized if not for a few stray contradictions to the state of being. It's furnishings were atypical and distinguished in contrast to much of what you might compare it to. Spyro and Cynder could almost visualize everything in its prime: finely crafted steeples, lecterns, altars, benches, and stools as well as carven stone, embroidered ornamental walls and stained glass.

The church was only a shadow of its former past but was beautiful nonetheless. Cynder was the first to speak.

"This place is amazing." She looked back to Spyro, a smile threatening to grace her lips.

"It really is." Spyro nodded in agreement.

Both dragons couldn't help but notice that Eliesia had been eerily quiet since entering, more so than usual. Looking back at her they could have safely assumed she had seen the spirit of an ancient from her expression. Her eyes grew watery, wings drooping loosely on the floor… Until she realized she had others looking at her. She steeled her nerves and put on a brave face, mask sliding across her expression.

Without another word she turned back the entrance, setting off at a brisk pace and taking her leave.

"Hey-" Spyro made to go after her but was stopped by the old wolf stepping in front of him.

"Let her be. She is a haunted soul with a haunted past." He spoke wisely, tapping his cane against the cobblestone and carpet. "Let us speak. I have set a spot aside for you at the head of the church." He pointed his cane over his shoulder and towards the front of the room for emphasis.

A great statue of a dragon loomed over a grey stone altar, a goblet centerpiece resting on a decorative cloth surrounded by melted candles. A small collection of vases surrounded the foot of the solid stone table.

Cynder immediately recognized the vases as the ones the cheetah had given her hours earlier that same evening.

"How did you-?" Her voice hitched in her throat as she turned around to face an aged cheetah in place of the wolf.

"Looks can be deceiving…" He answered in the same voice. "I took it upon myself to keep a close eye on all three of you since your arrival at Warfang." He gave a wheezing laugh, voice cracking and coughing.

"Three? You watched over me? I don't remember you," Spyro interjected.

No sooner had he spoken the words, a cloud of smoke enveloped the cheetah before them, quickly dissapaiting to reveal a frazzled old pantheress.

"Your eyes deceive you but your mind… no no no… does not." He gave a cackling laugh, reverting back to his canine form. "Tell me Spyro… Why did you sing to the audience?"

Spyro shifted, straightening his back; he didn't seem to be comfortable with the question. Why?

"I try to sing every year at the event. At least every year since Cyril died." His answer was simple, voice firm and finite. However, there was a sadness in his voice as he spoke the fallen guardians name; Cyril had always appreciated music.

The wolf nodded, humming to himself and smacking his lips to wet his mouth.

"I see… but why did I find you at the gardens instead of the theatre, stage fright?"

Spyro gave a nervous glance between the canine and Cynder, obviously uncomfortable with being interrogated.

"I… had planned to not sing this year. Is this really important right now?" His face seemed flustered and hot, talons scratching the stone beneath him. He seemed incredulous that now of all times was he to talk about such a subject so lightly.

"Everything is of importance… to me. Heeheehee… Now then, why do you sing every year?" The wolf's cane clacked against the side of the altar, making sure he had both dragons attention.

Cynder closely watched the purple dragon beside her, head leaning forward ever so slightly. She watched the drake suppressed a snarl, lip twitching slightly as he stared at the wolf.

"I sang because… should Cynder ever come back to Warfang…" He looked to the ground, shaking his head. " Should she ever come home, she could find me."

Cynder felt her heart shatter, the thought of Spyro returning to Warfang every year for her brought tears to her eyes. Why had she stayed away for so long? Even now he still didn't know why she left…

However, the time for thoughts was short and there were other things to be discussed with this wise stranger.

"The two of you share a story… there should be no secrets between you," The wolf spoke wisely, gesturing his cane between the drake and dragoness.

Both dragons looked to each other, glancing curiously at the wolf in front of them, neither enjoyed the sense of unease they felt around him.

"Who are you," Spyro questioned.

The wolf cackled.

"They call me Amphious."

"You knew what was going to happen didn't you?" Cynder's voice almost sounded accusatory, threatening. "You could have warned us."

"Ah… but would you have believed an old and maddened peasant like I?"

Cynder stopped, agitation fading. He wasn't wrong. Spyro took this time to address the statue in behind the altar.

"This cathedral… has a statue of-"

"Moldrar The Silenced." Amphious chuckled, steadily turning into a wheeze. "Speed could not save him where fear and darkness prowl." More laughter.

"Who was he," Spyro questioned.

"A shining knight in the cathedral age, an ever model gentleman in the face of a murderous world. He hee he." The wolf seemed to suffer from mania. "This was his temple."

The canis lupus lowered himself to his haunches, resting his legs as he sat in a stool beside the altar, fingers deftly tracing the rim of the silver chalice. The dragons chose to do the same, laying down on the comforting carpet strewn haphazardly beneath them.

Cynder looked to the doorway on the southern wall the church, catching a glimpse of Eliesia over Spyro's shoulder. She had questions.

"Who is she?"

Amphious hummed happily, cane tapping wildly on the stone as if he was pleased to be asked the question.

"A relic… The undead vestige of an age long forgotten. She will be the ember to ignite the flame of your salvation."

The two dragons admired her for several silent moments. She sat in a patch of white petals in front of the archway, moon dust galavanting through the air around her. She held her lips tightly, eyes closed as she hummed a somber melody that neither of them were familiar with.

"What's happening? Why is this happening?" It was Spyros turn to ask a question.

Spyro shifted anxiously, carpet shuffling underneath his weight as he moved his body to a more comfortable position.

"A weight has been lifted from the cosmic balance, allowing mad undead to claw their way into your world. Only she can bring the balance back to its proper scale..." The wolf answered vaguely, pointing the cane in the direction of Eliesia. "With the help of you two?"

Cynder huffed, shaking her head dismissively.

"I don't trust her stoicism."

The canine 'tisked' his teeth, leaning closer to the ebony dragoness, wooden cane shaking unsteadily beneath his weight.

"Those who are heartless once cared too much," he spoke wisely.

She gave a finale glance to the maroon dragoness outside before casting her gaze in an indistinct direction, switching which paw rested across the other.

Amphious suddenly stood, taking the opportunity to leave, cane tapping against the stone with every pawstep. The two were finally left in peace once the wolf disappeared behind a hanging curtain of sewn together cloth that suggested an attempt at privacy.

Cynder looked to Spyro, hoping to meet a reassuring gaze but instead found his gaze fixed intently on the dragoness outside. Her heart ached for a moment, eyes darting across the ground as she search for her words.

"Can we trust them?"

There was a long moment of silence, the distant snoring and quiet murmurs of drowsy dragons barely audible over the rush of wind across the church mouth. She could hear his chest and scales tighten with every breath, smoke drifting up from his nostrils.

Spyro turned to gaze up at the large drake statue in front of him.

"I don't know… All I know is that our answers are here, with them."

Both dragons rested their heads against the soft and inviting rugs that lay beneath them, eyes slowly drifting to a close.

* * *

 **Author's note: Thank you guys so much for reading, it's such a wonderful experience to make something that others can enjoy. I read every one of your reviews and PMs. I promise to keep supplying new chapters and content for you guys and I can't wait to see what you guys think about it.**

 **Until next time.**


	7. Chapter 7

The Makings of a Plan

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 **Author's note: Boom! New update! This one took rather long to write. I would like to apologize to you guys beforehand because there will be difficulty in uploading new chapters in these months to come. Summer's here and I'm going to be juggling a lot of things, like family, vacation times, and kids. Updates are going to be a little more sporadic and inconsistent but I do promise there will be updates. I also have plans for another story but I'm not going to get into that. We'll see where things go. Without further-ado… here yah go.**

* * *

 _Flashback_

Dragons surrounded a long table that nearly stretched the length of the room. Decorated to the brim with an assortment of food, delicacies and bouquets, Dragons in merry conversation weaved tales meant to woo and woe. Idle chatter and humorous jests resonating off the warm stone walls. Every corner was occupied, dragons of all kinds mingling with one another free of worry and doubt.

Moldrar laughed, head thrown back as his chest heaved with every inhale. Numerous others joined in, taking the opportunity to join in his joviality and revel in companionship.

"Superb story Ezrom! Where ever did you find such a joyous tale?"

The ice drake before him beamed, a chuckle in his throat. He delicately closed the book in his paw, making sure to place it on the floor beside him to avoid ruining it with food or drink.

"Is that even a necessary question? From the vast libraries of Shiveria of course," An earth dragoness sat next to the Lightning drake piped up.

Moldrar hummed, swallowing a mouthful of food before washing it down with a swig of mead and wiping the remains of his mouth before speaking.

"By the flame I simply must visit you more often. I hear the city is most pleasant during the summer."

There was a long pause of silence between the four companions, eyes darting back and forth between one another with absurd grins; they all promptly burst into laughter.

"I do make plans to visit, really. I'll have to condition myself weeks beforehand."

"Months," The earth dragoness cut in.

"Bah. That would be excessive." He gave a dismissive wave of his tail.

There was a smirk from the pale dragoness directly across from him, Ezrom's mate.

"Every dragon is different, and I'm sure you could acclimate but you may find it difficult the first few days. Either way, I'm certain you'll enjoy it." The pale dragoness's voice was serene, smooth but playful and inviting.

Moldrar stomped his foot to the ground, a profound smile on his face.

"Then it is settled. Now then, we toast! To Shiverum!" He proudly raised a goblet with his tail. The others raising their glasses as well.

"Shiverum," they chimed in unison.

 _End Flashback_

Eliesia wandered aimlessly through the cathedral grounds, the delicate white flowers swaying and shifting beneath her with every pawstep. The tomb stones surrounding her whispered invasively in her ears, harrowing portents that warned of the coming storms.

There was a hum, a somber tune that hung in her mind like the makings of a memory with no picture. She could hear the voices of others, a cold choir that haunted her purgatory.

She lazily glanced across the scriptures of the surrounding graves, old disheveled writing weathered away by time. She cursed them, herself, the world for leaving the past in shambles. The dragoness could catch…. glimpses. She remembered Moldrar… his ever gentle demeanor and soothing hospitality that spoke volumes of etiquette and manner.

The ghosts of faces and names danced in her mind and eyes; she could see them when she slept and dreamed. Were they dreams, nightmares, or fragments? The lines were too blurred.

The only thing louder than the voices was the throbbing. The artificial heartbeat pulled her towards her responsibility, the only thing that could fix this slowly crumbling world, the first flame.

She steadily paced around the perimeter of the building. Partially broken stained glass windows let her peer inside the rekindled church, providing gentle wafts of warmth to wash over her. The faint sounds and snores of whispering and slumbering dragons seeping through the cracks of their refuge; everything seemed so vulnerable.

' _This is how we lost…'_ She cursed herself.

She froze, the flickering shadows of dragons scraping across the ground catching her attention. Instinctively she looked up, catching glimpses between leaves of undead dragons flying over the forest canvas. As the moment passed she slowly relaxed, talons sheathing and muscles loosening. She kept walking until she found herself back at the mouth of the church, taking a few steps away from the door.

How long could they hide here? They would be found eventually wouldn't they? She looked back up to the shadows in the sky.

"You've been making me nervous," a voice spoke up from behind her, startling the dragoness.

She spun around, talons unsheathed and tailblade threatening to strike. She quickly relaxed once she realized it was the purple dragon. What was his name?

"Spyro…" She breathed out unintentionally. She thought it was in her head.

"You seem on edge. It's nice to know you remember my name though."

The drake slowly approached, eventually coming shoulder to shoulder with her. He never made eye contact with her, always gazing off into the distance; it was unsettling. There was a deep sigh from the purple dragon before silence once again took over.

She looked at him closely. Upon closer inspection she was able to notice a few things. First were the numerous gashes across his body, blood trickling down to spoil the white flowered ground. Second was his eyes. They looked sick, half lidded and sunk into his head; he hadn't gotten much sleep.

"You need to treat your wounds. You'll become ill." She moved towards him slightly only to have him jerk away. She looked up to be met with a hesitant stare.

With a huff she looked away, a scowl across her face. If he wanted to get sick that was his choice. She didn't bother to look when she heard the shuffling of grass and scales.

Spyro heated up his tail, a small flame flickering from his mouth and against his tail blade. He stopped once the end was a deep glowing red. Giving himself a once over, the purple dragon found several easily reachable wounds. Talons flexing in the soft grass and dirt, he clenched his jaw and steeled his muscles.

There was an audible hissing sound that disrupted the silence, Eliesia's head flipping around to watch in bewilderment as the purple drake attempted to cauterize his wounds on his own. It took everything in her will power not to scoff at him.

"Stop," she ordered, slapping his tail away.

The purple drake hissed, scowl across his face as he glared at her.

"What are you doing," he loudly whispered.

"I could ask you the same thing. You're doing it wrong."

The purple dragons face contorted, head reared back in disbelief. Shaking himself, his eyes remained annoyed but expression intrigued.

"It shouldn't hurt that much, not if it's hot enough."

She brought up her tail blade to her mouth, a white flame emanating from her maw. In seconds the blade was the same color, so hot that it hissed as it burned the air around it.

She gestured his paw towards him, silently asking him to come closer. He found himself obeying, shuffling his body closer to the dragoness.

She lowered her head and tail, inspecting the numerous cuts and gashes along his body. She slowly and delicately moved the piping hot blade towards him. He threw his gaze to the sky, preparing for the searing pain he was sure would come.

There was a loud hissing sound and what felt like a pinprick but it was much more bearable in comparison to his own attempt. He gazed down at her, face loose and questioning.

"How do you do that?" His voice sounded tired.

"With a steady tail and years of practice and study." She moved to his other side.

Spyro nodded his head, adjusting his neck to relieve some kinks.

"I normally rely on crystals but…" His words faded from his mouth.

Only a simple hum came in reply. With a shake of his head he continue.

"We lost them with the city. The few we had we used for the weak."

She couldn't stop the smile that glimpsed across her face. How could she have gotten this dragon so wrong when they first encountered? He put so many others above himself.

Spyro gave a haunted chuckle as if trying to comfort himself.

Head rotating he took in the sights, using the time to think. There were still so many questions that hadn't been answered. He looked back to the dragoness beside him, her eyes gazing at his cuts intently. He wanted to know more but… how to approach her.

"What is this place?"

Her eyes flickered up to him before settling back on her task; no answer came. Spyro gave a deep exhale, head turning to look back at the church. The dragoness suddenly stood upright, never looking at him.

"Eliesia… We need answers." His head leaned forward, trying to convince her to look at him.

"What is this place? How do you know Moldrar? What… what does all of this tie into?" He was growing desperate, the silence was killing him.

Eliesia took a shuddering breath. She owed them answers. Why was she so afraid to share them? Was it shame? Fear?

She forced out another shuddering breath, eyes lost and searching as she spoke.

"Moldrar was a friend…"

* * *

Cynder shivered, a cool breeze drifting through the mouth of the cathedral. Her eyes flickered open, the orange glow of candle light slowly filtering in through her drowsy lids and helping her wake. She gave a large yawn, lips and tongue lifting up in a silent display of her teeth and maw.

She blinked the yawning tears from her eyes, head spinning around to brief herself on her surroundings. She felt a hint of panic, not recognizing where she was. However, the memories came flooding back.

She could hear the screams all around her, the heat of the burning building as they crumbled to the ground and collapsed. Her heart raced, eyes wide as she relived the nightmare of reality. She could practically see it all.

Cynder shook herself, chest heaving as her mind swam and head spun on a swivel. Moments passed, the panic in her stomach slowly fading. She looked to her side.

"Spy-" No one was there.

Muscles heaving and bones aching she stood up glancing around the chapel.

' _He couldn't have gone far.'_

She took it as an opportunity to look around, wandering deeper into the stone haven until she came to the set of stairs that led to the upper balcony. She took the left set, her talons scraping and clicking against the stone floor.

Just as below there were numerous pots with burning candles placed atop them. A sweet aroma emanated from them that she hadn't noticed earlier. She closed her eyes, beautiful images filling her mind.

There was a field of wheat, patches of flowers in full bloom scattered across an ocean of green and gold. It looked to be a valley, mountains and trees rising up on both sides before disappearing into the clouds.

A sudden wrap in the knuckles had her startled from her day dream.

"Do not breathe so deeply around the incense unless you wish to slip into an everlasting dream," A frail voice chastised.

Cynder recognized it as Amphious; she deadpanned.

"Doesn't seem like such a bad thing." She thought back to how she woke up.

Another smack on her paw had her rubbing it soothingly.

"Okay, okay… sorry. Why do you have so many if they're so dangerous?"

The wolf hummed, a wheezing chuckle vibrating in his throat.

"It wards off the beasts, the dead."

Cynder glanced back at the pottery, watching the flames flicker carefully, realizing flecks of gold and purple dotted the inside of the orange light. She tried not to look too much into the coloring and what it meant. She quickly decided to change subjects.

"What is this place," she questioned as she admired the ceiling.

Numerous murals and paintings decorated the underside of the roof, many depicting great cities and happy celebrations.

Amphious tisked his teeth, pulling her attention away from the magnificent displays.

"I'm afraid that is not my story to tell…"

Cynder frowned, realizing what the wolf meant; she needed to talk to Elieisia. She would feel better about it if both her and Spyro confronted the dragoness together.

She snapped from her thoughts, thinking back to the absent purple dragon.

"Have you seen Spyro?"

The wolf hummed a throaty chuckle, frail arms lifting up his wooden cane; he pointed in the direction of the door. Cynder felt her throat tighten. She desperately hoped he didn't mean Spyro left.

Without another word Cynder bowed her head in thanks, making her way down the stairs and towards the the entry way.

' _You're being ridiculous Cynder, he wouldn't leave.'_ She berated herself.

As she approached the door she found herself slowing down, ears picking up faint whispers of two voices. She immediately recognized spyro's, the only voice she could match to the others was Eliesia's.

The ebony dragon rounded the corner, spotting the fire dragoness tending to the purple drake's wounds; there was a faint hissing sound. The pair sat at the foot of the hill that rounded up to the church, both dragons taking turns to look at one another. Cynder pushed forwards quietly, gentle pawsteps nestling among the petals in the grass.

Looking to Spyro she noticed he was completely okay with everything. He wasn't in pain so why did it hurt her so see the two dragons talking?

Eliesia had stood up, having finished treating Spyro, she spoke.

"There were five of us, including me. We sought knowledge and and wisdom to share with the world. Great cities and cathedrals were constructed as monuments of our age."

Cynder couldn't see her eyes nor face; they had their backs turned to the ebony dragoness.

"Moldrar… who was he?" From the sound of his voice Spyro was deeply intrigued.

Cynder felt a twinge in her heart. She didn't know what it was or why she felt it, only that it hurt. It felt as if there was a rift between her and the purple dragon she held dear. A tear in their… relationship, a tear she had put there when she left.

Eliesia continued her story, wings stretching behind her slightly as her words filled the evening air.

"He was one of us of course. The best of us… This was his church. He… he held great feasts and parties here for all to enjoy." There was a heft in her voice. She spoke the words so squarely but… she seemed afraid of them, unsure?

"You said there were five of you…" Spyro carried on for her.

"Fire, Lightning, Earth, Ice and wind…" She nodded her head as she spoke, paws shuffling under her weight slightly.

Spyro looked in deep thought. Cynder could just see the left side of his face, snout pointed down and eye scanning the ground.

"So… In a way… you were like guardians." He looked back to the fire dragoness for an answer.

Eliesia shook her head.

Cynder felt her mind pick up. Sudden realization washing over her. ' _The guardians! We split up after the attack…'_ She made to speak but Eliesia spoke before her.

"We were much more than that… There was more to us…" She seemed to struggle with her words, like she was reaching for them but couldn't hold onto anything.

There was a pregnant pause, a hole in the conversation; no one spoke, just pondered.

Finally, Cynder cleared her throat, grabbing the attention of both dragons.

"We need to talk with everyone." She spoke firmly, looking between both of them.

Gaze resting on the dragoness for several moments, Spyro took the time to acknowledge her with a bow.

' _Has she been there the whole time?'_

His friend returned the gesture, only, there was hesitance.

Spyro looked behind her to see Amphious gesturing for them to come into the cathedral, frail paw beckoning backwards.

Spyro entered without hesitation. Eliesia however, hung at the entrance, front right paw hovering over a layed down carpet across the entryway. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and stepped inside.

Spyro felt a smile tug at his lips; he knew how hard it was to hold onto old memories. It had been months after the death of Terrador before he had the strength to step paw into the temple again.

A loud tap and whistle had everyone in the church stirring from their slumber, lazily blinking the sleep from their eyes. Sweet dreams fluttered from their minds, leaving them to process reality. The wolf looked to Spyro, expectation in his eyes.

The purple dragon didn't miss a beat, clearing his throat before announcing loudly.

"Warfang! We need a plan!"

There were murmurs, the still groggy dragons drawing together to form an audience.

" _It's still night, we need rest."_

" _Didn't you hear earlier? It's going to stay dark. This nightmare won't end until we put a stop to it."_

" _By the Ancients… This world is but a grave…"_

Spyro cleared his throat one more time before looking to Cynder, waiting for her to share an idea, she had called the meeting after all.

The dragoness steeled her nerves, paws shuffling underneath her while her wings shifted on her back.

"We've lost a lot in these past few hours…"

Spyro gazed off to the side.

' _Was it really hours? Or was it days?'_

The purple dragon found his attention drawn to the a form of a grey-scaled drake with deep blue highlights along his horns and spine. He pushed through the crowd, drawing the attention of everyone else in the room. Annoyed glares burrowing into him; he looked to the ground shamefully.

"Im sorry," was the short and quiet apology he had offered after drawing the ire of every other dragon in the room.

Spyro recognized him but he couldn't remember from where.

"There are no signs of the guardians. The best bet we have in surviving all of this is bringing them back together."

Eliesia opened her mouth to argue but a reassuring tap from Amphious's cane had the dragoness settled.

There were murmurs through the crowd, questioning glares and dismissive growls. A single brave drake spoke up from the front of the crowd; ivory scales with yellow tinged horns and spines labeled him as a popular philanthropist among Warfang.

"Who put you in charge? Why is it you show up just in time for disaster to strike?!"

It would seem every dragon had their breaking point, others considerably lower than the rest.

There were murmurs of agreement among the crowd. However, other dragons such as the blue and grey drake frowned at the insinuation.

"I find it difficult to take orders from the Terror of-"

Spyro confidently strode up to the dragon, easily able to dwarf the silver spooned drake. There was a deep growl resonating within the purple drake's chest, Spyro's head raised prominently above everyone else's.

"I suppose you have a plan then, Ligolith?" Spyro's aura easily drowned out any confidence the dragon before him carried; no reply came.

The intimidation tactic was simple enough but when considering the pigment of scales, it was easily received; the drake backed off, joining the rest of the crowd.

"Rushing at the throat of another Warfang citizen will serve nothing but the benefit of our enemy."

Eliesia made to open her mouth once again before deciding to close it.

"I will admit… there is very little we understand right now."

He looked around the room, head turning back to offer a grateful smile to the undead fire dragoness, a gesture she returned unconfidently.

"I can promise answers but I can't promise victory… not if we don't trust one another."

There was a growing smile on the faces of Warfang, emboldening hearts filling the chest of every dragon as he spoke.

"But right now, at this. Very. Moment. We need each other more than we need answers. If we can't hold fast to ourselves, all is lost."

He glanced to Cynder, gesturing her forward. All eyes transferred to her as the ebony dragoness took over.

"If we lose the heart of Warfang, we lose this war. We need the guardians."

Another voice spoke up, this time from the grey and blue drake from earlier.

"And the guardians need us."

Spyro beamed at the younger dragon, finally recognizing him and giving a grateful bow. A glance over the room revealed none in opposition, all eyes focused on the two veterans.

"Now… does anyone have any clue of where we can find any of the guardians?" The purple drake glanced around the room. Cynder did the same.

The same young dragon stepped forward.

"Percium…" Spyro addressed reassuringly, right forepaw gesturing towards him, offering the floor to the younger dragon.

"Shiverum…" The drake's expression was a steel mask, the integrity of which was slipping.

Spyro immediately understood. Percium had family in the city, specifically on his mother's side.

At that time Eliesia felt the fire in her breast freeze over, the shadows of history and lost memory biting into her mind; she felt a mental wall crack.

"You're sure?" Spyro wanted to double check.

The Ice drake bolstered his chest, mask firm; he nodded.

Cynder looked to Spyro, seeing the purple drake deep in though. The ebony dragoness shifted her paws, talons sheathing and unsheathing to gnaw at the carpet. The purple dragon bowed to the young drake gratefully.

"Then that's where we go."

* * *

 **Author's note: Hey Guys. Hope you all enjoyed the chapter; I definitely loved writing it. It felt great to right something empowering. I wouldn't get used to it though. ;P After all, it's a Blood Souls inspired story. Anyways, thank you for your continued support. As always, feel free to leave a review or send a PM. It always makes my day to see one from you guys. As always, I'll see you in the next chapter!**


	8. Chapter 8

Frozen Ramparts

* * *

 **Author's Note: I… Goodness. It's been a while fellas. It's been more than a while and for that, I'm really sorry for the wait. But here it is, Chapter eight in all its glory. I say glory but… Gosh. It's scary hopping back in the saddle. However, I never would have been able to do it without Dardarax, GoldenGriffiness, and 4Dragons help. They've all been so supportive and helpful in the making of this chapter. Couldn't have done it without you guys. Also, since it's been a long break this chapter's a couple thousand words longer than usual. ENJOY!**

 **That being said… There is a song I've selected for this chapter. The designated section to play the song will be marked by double line breaks.**

 **Song:** _ **(Remastered) Dark Souls III Original Soundtrack Full - Oceiros, The Consumed King**_

* * *

Along the walls of the frozen coast, withered frozen bones creaked beneath icy scales, the misshapen image of a dragon breaching and diving through the ocean's surface to unleash tidal waves. Each one crashed into a protective dome that surrounded a great city of ice.

Teeth gnashed and ground together, the repetitive haunting screams of pain and anguish rage inducing. Continuing to circle the metropolis from the ocean, the dragon numbed his mind with disconnected thoughts.

Spines burst out, icicles piercing his back as he roared in frustration and hate. Gnarled and twisted bone heaved and ached beneath loosely scaled skin, pushing him through the water along with the propelling thrusts from his tail.

Sea serpents and ice wyverns rose up from below him, launching through the water surface onto frozen land and bitter sky. A choir of hisses, roars, and screeches filled his ears every time he breached; they were maddening, endless.

The water grew thick, sheets of ice forming in the water as he swam and slowly turned to slush; a bitterly frozen cold aura surrounded him.

The strength of vengeance was _his_ to command.

Mind blind with rage and discontent, the drake readied bitter frozen blades, vengeance in sight.

* * *

There was a murmuring chorus of nods and words from the dragons in the church, jumbled together in a moment disorganization. An underlying sense of urgency radiated throughout the room, dragons desperately discussing shared thoughts and ideas in hopes of bringing together anything that made sense.

Mothers and fathers consoled their children, promising comfort and sanctuary; both lies and truths were spoken. Words were only a temporary comfort though.

The flutter of wings and rasp of scales and talons against stone could be heard as dragons hurried and wandered about the rejuvenated church, taking the time to set up proper living quarters for hatchlings and elders alike. The sight brought a smile to Amphious's face, as well as Eliesia's.

For millennia, the church had been cold, obvious to any trespassers that it had been abandoned. Some places are not a province for the living.

"This Cathedral was one of my homes away from home… To see life burning in it again…" Eliesia gave an emotional laugh, a single tear dripping from her eye to fizzle on her cheek.

"You're welcome," Amphious smirked with a light tap of his wooden cane.

Nerves steeled, the maroon dragoness reared her head proudly, mask falling into place; she had gone too long with it off.

"Do not part with your illusions, your heart. When they are gone, you may still exist, but you will have ceased to live and lose yourself to the hunger," the old wolf added as he walked away.

Eliesia watched, eyes fluttering as she watched the mysterious prophet make his way through the crowd of bustling dragons. Looking back, the emerald-eyed dragoness could see Spyro and Cynder talking amongst themselves.

"You didn't have to stand up for me. I'm not the same dragon I was before, Spyro," Cynder piped, talons lifted up to gesture to herself.

"I know," was the purple dragons reply. He wore a contagious smile.

The scratching of talons on stone drew all eyes to the approaching maroon dragoness, her striking emerald eyes burning with newfound determination. The pulsating veins of magma between her scales seemed brighter, waves of heat radiating off of her.

"We need to go, Amphious will watch over Odeum." Without another word she made her way to the archway, looking back over her shoulder.

"I'll explain on the way."

Cynder's jaw opened and closed, unsure whether to protest or agree. Spyro only nodded, watching the female dragon make her way to the mouth of the church. Facing back around, violet eyes met brisk sea green.

Cynder watched Spyro close the distance between the two of them mind suddenly well aware of how close he was getting.

Head downcast in thought the purple drake pondered the situation, a smile slowly spreading across his lips.

"I'm glad you're back and you're by my side."

Cheeks flashing red she smiled at the ground, mind swirling with memories of the two of them fighting alongside one another. Looking up revealed that she was left standing alone, head pivoting in search of her friend.

With a calm and relaxed breath, Cynder briskly strode to the entrance of the church, pace quickening as she caught up the team of dragons at the edge of the forest. With an understanding nod of her head to the three of them, they pushed into the woods, launching into the sky.

* * *

A strong mountain breeze washed over three scaled figures spiraling through the night. The moon radiated with incandescence, waves of light washing over purple, scarlet, and ebony scales as they traveled at an apprehensive glide.

"Is this the right way? None of this looks familiar," Cynder queried, gliding next to Spyro.

The purple dragon shook his head, scanning the ground for any indication of direction. Cynder hung at his side, drifting slightly behind the dragons left wing.

"I'm not sure if this is the way to Shiverum. Everything… Changed…"

Gothic style ruins sporadically dotted the ground, half buried beneath ash and fire blossom. Twisted trees and shrubbery could be seen practically growing before their very eyes.

Spyro looked between the two dragonesses, eyebrow and mouth muscles twitching as if in a facial drawn shrug.

"She seems fairly confident in her ability to navigate," Cynder regarded quizzically.

Eliesia craned her neck, looking back at the two flanking dragons as they spoke to one another.

"We can't afford to fly over Warfang. It'll draw too much attention. We're taking a long way around.

Cynder's eyes narrowed inquisitively, lips twitching and head throbbing along with the beat of wings.

"She's hiding something from us, I know it. She doesn't tell us anything," she practically spat out, imaginary daggers sharpened with distrust.

Spyro shook his head, disregarding the statement as he clapped his wings to maintain altitude.

"This is her past… She just has trouble remembering." Spyro's tone wasn't confrontative. Firm, but less definitive.

"Or she's a good liar…"

With an exasperated look at the black scales dragon, Spyro eyed her dubiously, obviously not convinced.

"Eliesia! Should we expect someone you know," he called out to her, the pace of his wings speeding up as a means to reach her.

The maroon scales dragoness's expression held a grim look, eyes glossed over as they looked forward blankly. Her neck muscles strained, jaw muscles tightening until her teeth ached.

Cynder's wings flapped, gliding just behind her friend.

"Can you tell us something? Anything," she tested.

Spyro looked to the vast wasteland below, eyes scanning the floor but not seeing, staring off as he thought.

"What of Moldrar? You said the Chapel was once his," The purple dragon inquired. He turned to the maroon dragoness, eyes pulled upwards as he forced his gaze away from the ashen ground.

Cynder couldn't help but glance at her friend, mind brimming with imaginative scenarios. The ebony dragoness quickly recovered herself, mask sliding into place as she listened to Eliesia's words.

Elesia's thoughts drifted. There… she felt memories tugging at her mind, a trickle, a crack in an impossible dam.

There was a flash of a smile, pleasant but forlorn. As if recalling a fond memory with bittersweet remembrances.

"Divinology. He forefronted the exploitation of his element, pushing his power to its constructive limits so as to create a means of _technology_." There were points where it was obvious she was suppressing a laugh while her eyes blinked rapidly to hold back tears.

"Failure is the mother of Invention," She suddenly added.

There were scrutinizing looks among the faces of her colleagues, minds in obvious contemplation over the meaning of the words.

"His adage," she clarified.

The whistling and rushing of wind took over, a deep silence hanging among the quartet of dragons as they continued to fly. Distant groans and rumbles could be heard below, the soot-covered ground quaking as the world's surface changed.

Eliesia took a deep inhale of breath through her nose, breaking the quiet with a grunt and a shake of her head. Flecks of ash whipped against her cheeks, their warm kiss drawing her eyes to a close; a more relaxed breath came out.

The two other dragons turned away, expressions distant and pondering. Spyro's claws twitched, delicately tracing the outlines of his recently healed wounds. The pain was absent, replaced with a spreading warmth, a surreal comfort that brought up another question.

"What was your church?" The question came out before he could stop it, mentally cursing himself for letting his lips slip.

"Healing," was all that came in reply.

In truth, Spyro never expected a reply. However, he somehow wasn't surprised by the answer, mind having already subconsciously connected the dots. Meanwhile, Cynder listened to the exchange with more provocative questions crowding her mind. Unfortunately, neither dragon held a will strong enough to ask them aloud though; they looked to each other.

A bitter breeze washed over the team of dragons, sending Cynder into a fit of shivers while the remaining dragons looked onwards.

"I don't expect the city to be in better conditions than Warfang," Eliesia's tone warned.

Not altering course the dragons drew closer, storms blizzard winds and snow tugged at their sense of direction, crowding the air and their vision. Cynder's heart beat in her ears, thumping like a drum in her head. Her scales frosted, warmth quickly being absorbed from her body by the surrounding air.

The freezing wind whipped at their wings, snowflakes like razors biting at their membrane and eyes. Only the dampened radiating warmth of Eliesia offered any semblance of hope or direction.

Suddenly, the storm ceased. All four dragons opened their eyes, blinking and shivering away flakes of built-up snow. All three dragons halted in their course, taking time to look on in awe.

The city of Shiverum, a shimmering city of ice, cold stone and wisdom stood under attack. It rested on a frozen island, connected to the mainland by large raisable bridges. A massive crystalline dome rested over its entirety like a protective globe, guarding its inhabitants against the torrent of swarming undead dragons. Distant anguish roars and screams of hollowed out dragons sent shivers down Spyro and Cynder's spines.

The purple dragon looked away, hoping that the sounds would disappear if he gave them no notice. Meanwhile, Cynder ground her teeth, eyes forced shut against the maddening cries. Everything was wrong. None of it made sense.

Thunderous explosions shook the pair from their inner torment. They watched as the swarming dragons crashed and fired at the massive shield, cracks spider webbing under the immense strain and pressure.

"We have to do something," Spyro proclaimed.

"Of course but how do we help from out here? We're outnumbered," Cynder advised, nodding to the swarm of dragons.

"There's a hidden entrance. If it isn't locked we can get into the city unnoticed. Hopefully."

"Will it be open with the city under attack," Eliesia checked, wind and snowflakes whipping past her snout and eyes. The distant crash of waves against icy walls drew her attention. There was a heavy tenor in the air; it made her heart ache.

Spyro gave no reply.

"Well just have to take a chance. If it's closed, we can find another way." Cynders tone was hopeful, attemptedly reassuring.

"No. It's not that simple. To get to it we have to go under the city, through the water. I'm sure Eliesia and I can make the trip. We have our fire element to warm us."

Everyone paused, the unrelenting gravity of their decision beginning to set in. Cynder unawaredly shivered.

"My Shadow element. I can fade through the-"

" _Won't work_ ," Eliesia interrupted.

Spyro gave a grim nod, face downcast to avoid looking the ebony dragoness in the eyes.

"If we get under the city and the entrance is sealed… you'll freeze before you can get out." Eliesia's tone was stoic.

"Maybe we can split up? I'll-" Spyro tried to bargain.

"No. We stay together." Cynder cut him off. "Either way we need to move."

Cynder wouldn't leave Spyro's side, mind already made up as she thought back to all the years she spent alone. The risk was something the Black dragoness had to take. Looking up to Elieisa, Cynder gave a nod before turning to the purple dragon beside her.

Eliesia took the signal, flying off in the direction of the city while the fated pair followed behind.

Spyro cursed under his breath before gazing at the black dragoness beside him, eyes filled with internal hurt and grim apprehension.

"Why do this? Why go through with it? I don't want to lose you again," His voice wavered, threatening to pull the rest of him apart as he spoke.

The purple drake studied her, memorizing every detail of her face. She looked so calm, determined as she drew closer to what could possibly be the last time he would see her alive.

Cynder felt every word hit her like the strike of a hammer, cracking the faith the dragoness held in her decision up until that moment. 'I love you,' she wanted to say.

"You won't," Came out instead.

Looking forward, Cynder watched Eliesia disappear into freezing deep water. Casting one last look to her friend, Cynder closed her eyes.

Frigid water washed over her, forcing her eyelids open in shock. Thick curtains of bubbles rose to the surface, shrouding her vision but slowly returning. The warmth in her chest faded, dissipating into pain, next came the numbness.

The water pressed in, ears ringing from the pressure before fading. The ebony dragoness swirled, kicking her legs and wings to right herself in the water. Cynder froze, lungs tightening and chest burning with adrenaline.

When something truly frightening grips you, it is said all one can do is watch as it consumes you.

The oceanic void… The vast expanse of unfamiliar and unexplored terrain.

It was dark, uninviting. The dragoness could only stare, eyes cast down to watch the deep eerie abyss beneath her. Vertigo set in...

The quiet… It made her ears ring. Shadows danced along the corners of her vision, hallucinations of something sinister. Were they hallucinations? Inexplicable horrors conjured by her mind?

If fear had a sound, it would be found in the ocean… Lurking… Like everything else it held. The worst was the quiet, menacing by nature. There was no sense of life, nor a feeling of tranquility as others had referred to it; It was all a lie. She never expected such a petrifying quietness, a stillness that whispered sinister promises.

The dragoness began to sink.

She couldn't inhale… a daunting reminder that death was only a breath away. As if in realization of her panic, Cynder's body convulsed spastically, thrashing in a fear induced response. Once, twice; it stopped at the third.

Already her lungs began to burn, neck reaching up in a helpless effort to prevent herself from being swallowed whole by the lightless depths.

The dark crept in, icy tendrils that wrapped around her legs and neck, pulling her further down. It nipped and bit, working its way under her scales until it was painful to move. She felt her mind go numb with fear, paralysis tightening its hold on her body.

Cynder's vision faded, darkness setting in.

Something wrapped around her waist. A tail? Warmth washed over her midsection, spreading upwards in a protective blanket, blocking out some of the dark. The dragoness felt herself being pulled upwards, the warmth comforting but not strong enough to block out the cold entirely.

Everything was so dark.

Cynder breached the surface, basking in the breathable air while her heart pumped in her chest. Sound, she could hear sound again.

Blinking the black from her eyes, Cynder pivoted her head, waiting for her vision to come back.

"Cynder?! What happened? You disappeared as soon as we hit the water," Spyro questioned, worry prevalent in his voice.

Colors blurred into existence, eliciting a relieved exhale from the ebony dragoness. Claws reaching out to touch Spyro's tail, Cynder traced where it lead.

"Spy-" Cynder paused.

Eliesia lay flat against the ground, chest heaving with every breath. Her scales were faded, dulled to a darker shade. The black dragoness watched, eyes tracing the exhausted and soaked form of the stranger.

"You…?" The question was more an exhale of breath than an actual word.

Eliesia didn't answer as she slowly stood, water and sloshy frost bitten ice melting off of her scales.

Cynder regarded the other female silently.

Spyro looked over his shoulder, quickly regarding the room. Guards clad in armor surrounded the team of dragons, lips turned up in a snarl. Tail Blades poised to strike, the purple drake stood up slowly.

"We're from Warfang. We came to help. I'm looking for Aquaria."

Frost blue columns rose into the air, towering above the heads of even the largest dragons in the room. Intricate designs decorated their exterior along with violet banners that draped down to dangle above Spyros head. Overturned tables and shelves lay strewn across the floor, shattered vases and ornaments scattered among them like rubble; the entire hall looked ransacked.

A sudden burst of tremors sent a number or remaining breakable to the ground, joining the rest of the debris.

"Spyro!?" The voice was female. However, the familiarity gave Spyro a moment of relief, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

A rift formed between the surrounding perimeter, a sea green dragoness spotted with violet blossoms, elegantly trimmed mane that stretched her entire length and winter elk antlers for horns stepped out from among the paladins.

"Poetry," Spyro confirmed, stepping forward to meet the drake. "I wasn't sure if you made it out of Warfang." Both dragons embraced one another.

"The ancients were with me Spyro. Besides, you know I wouldn't let anything happen to me," The dragoness joked. Poetry's personality was a wave of light and joy that eased Spyro's nerves. Unfortunately, the moment was short-lived.

"Where's your mother?"

"We just met and you're already casting me aside for my mother," She teased.

"I'm here," a voice interrupted, feminine and daunting. Aquaria stepped between the crowd of guards, normally regal pearl scales tarnished with scrapes and smoke residue; she had been in combat.

"Aquaria, it's so good to see you, both of you," Spyro gestured between the ice dragons.

Cynder stood up slowly, knees shaking under her weight. The dragoness coughed, body collapsing into a fit of shivers and sniffles. The purple dragon rushed back, lifting her off the cold floor.

"We need to get her warm," Elesia abruptly spoke up, heat radiating off of her. Any water still clinging to the maroon scales evaporated.

"We have bonfires burning in the great hall for refugees. We'll take her there," a guard chimed in, already propping the ebony dragoness up under her wing.

"I'll go with her," added Eliesia, tagging along.

Spyro hesitated, paws automatically trying to follow his friend, desperately wanting to ensure her safety. He couldn't lose her. He just got her back. The drake tracked the dragons as they departed from the group, violet eyes watching every step. A loud groan signaled a massive set of doors opening into what looked to be a foyer; heat filtered in. Muscles straining the purple drake craned his neck, slowly watching his comrades and friend disappear into a bustling crowd of refugees. The ground and walls shuttered as the door closed, shaking Spyro from the worrisome trance.

"Refugees?" The violet veteran turned to Aquaria and Poetry.

The dragoness gave a firm nod meanwhile Poetry shoved a piece of wooden shelving from under her paws.

"After the attack on Warfang, I lead a group of citizens here. I had hoped they would be safe."

"Tell me how I can help."

"My priority is the civilians. Right now I'm working on an evacuation plan, one that can get everyone out safely."

"But we need soldiers at the front gates. The cities barrier isn't as strong as we would like it right now and if it breaks we someone like you in our ranks," Poetry Added.

"Ancients help us," a guard whispered woefully.

"I don't think they'll hear you," Poetry half-joked.

A thunderous roar groaned beneath the ice, harrowing cry muffled by the thick sheeted floor. The purple drake stopped, glancing to Poetry.

Suddenly, the ground shook beneath their paws, cracks spider webbing across like the ground was made of glass. Everything fell quiet, the guards in the room looking at one another nervously.

The floor collapsed, giving way under Spyro's paws and sending the dragon into the bitter water. The icy slush frothed, lapping at the corners of the shattered ground.

"Spyro!" Poetry made to dive after but the pull of Aquaria's tail against her wing held the ice dragon in place.

"Let me go. I'll get Spyro while you protect the civilians," the young dragon ordered, struggling to escape her mother's grasp.

The dragoness paused, stunted breath hitching in her throat as she made to confront. However, the weight Poetry carried behind her glare made her stop. The guardian hesitated, grip loosening before letting go altogether, tail falling to the floor in a heap.

The ice dragoness dove into without another word.

"By the ancients let her return to me," she whispered.

Aquaria spun on her heels, lips pursed as she bore into her troops.

"You three, follow Poetry. Fight off whatever is down there."

A nod of their heads and the dragons followed, water splashing against Aquaria's heels as they dove into the water.

"The rest of you! Follow me! We need to get the refugees out of the great hall before whatever made that hole decides to make a few more!"

Doors swung open, rattling against the wall while guards flooded out, rallying citizens.

Aquaria felt her attention drawn to the eastern wall, eyes locked on the stain glass image of an ice drake surrounded by tomes and scrolls. Nauseation rolled in the guardian's abdomen, stomach threatening to spoil itself; she forced her gaze away.

"Oh ancients, Return both of them to me."

An engraving rested below, inscription faded and weathered beyond recognition. However, in another time the words read, _"Ezrom, Lord Of Shiverum."_

* * *

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

* * *

Pain flashed up from Spyro's tail, stomach lurching in an effort to stop himself from feeling sick. Teeth dug into the dragon's scales, purple platelets and blood drifting through the water. In a moments notice, Spyro felt himself being dragged downwards, ears ringing as the pressure grew with every passing second. Desperation took hold, claws lashing out wildly. Luckily something landed, claws tearing into what felt like a nostril. The sudden release sent the drake into spins.

Legs and wings kicking, the drake worked to upright himself. All the while, his head turned on a swivel, scanning the dark depths for any sign of what attacked him. Slowly, the cold began to creep in, working its way into the drake's scales and numbing his body. Focusing, Spyro ignited a flame in his chest, life-giving warmth immediacy returning to his body; his tail throbbed.

The dragon spun himself in the water, eyes wrought with panic as they chanced a look at what had attacked him.

A large shadow dangled at the edge of his sight line, wavering in out of darkness to paint terrifying grim pictures. It was obviously an ice drake, easily able to maneuver through the water as well as withstand the bitter temperatures with no effect to his stamina.

The figure disappeared, a hollowing moan reverberating through the dark water. A set of talons rested on Spyro's shoulder, startling him out of his petrified trance. Poetry pulled back, paws kicking in the water to keep from sinking.

Spyro's heart throbbed painfully, adrenaline kicking on and off too rapidly for his body to adjust.

Water pressed in on the head of both dragons, the waters temperature diving even lower, if that was even possible. Frost and slush collected in various places on Spyro's body, making it difficult to move. What was this?

There was no sign of movement. Despite the fact, both dragons would have felt more comfortable seeing anything than face the intimidating dread of aimlessness. Guards surrounded the pair, protective formation covering all sides and flanks.

Suddenly, Ice blades torpedoed through the water, picking off the guards one by one. Spyro and Poetry spun wildly, periodically glancing to one another to make sure neither had been picked off. Another groan sounded in the abyss.

Both dragons lurched, bodies thrown upwards in the water as they were swept up by strong wings. Both Spyro and Poetry braced themselves. A thunderous crash shattering the eerie silence as three bodies ruptured through the icy foundation of Shiverum. All three dragons landed in a public square.

Skywards, Shiverum's barrier cracked, shield slowing bowing inwards. The cities beacons faltered, beams of light that rose up to the forcefield sputtering until nothing shone. Ruptured, the panels of protective magic collapsed. They melting into clouds of ice and snow that drifted down into the city, their surreal beauty a terrifying omen.

Panicked civilian screams immediately had begun to sound. All the dragons scattered, tumbling over one another. Some took to the skies only to be met with invading force.

Meanwhile, The change in atmosphere and temperature was jarring, leaving the purple dragon in a daze meanwhile Poetry took a stance.

Before her stood a sickly sight, a dragon with scales that clung to bone tighter than fur skin left out in the sun for too long. The unholy upbringing left the menace with terrible blank eyes, sunk into its skull. The dragon was more a corpse than anything Poetry had laid eyes upon since Warfang. The term hollow was a truly befitting name.

Despite such weathered features, the ice drake showed no signs of weakness. Mouth turned up in a snarl, frost drifted down from his open mouth in plumes of pearl white dust. It collected in crystals, jaggedly rising up from the ground in deadly spikes.

Spyro's body shuddered as he stood, violet scales jingling like armor to loosen puffs of slush that collected in heaps at the purple dragon's paws.

Ezrom's attention shifted, eyes glaring daggers into the recovering dragon. Poetry moved along his left flank. However, the young dragoness was halted as Ezrom's rueful stare snapped to her.

Breath hitched, Poetry became consciously aware of how fast her own heart was racing in her chest. A bell rang from above the courtyard. The distant screams and battle cries of citizens and paladins echoed across the city.

A noise like thunder cut through the eerie calm, a purple blur followed by a stream of yellow crashed into the hostile lord. Ezrom jaws clamped, giving an audible snap while deadly spears of crystal ice firing wildly into the air. One grazed Poetry's left horn.

Spyro thunder crashed into the drake, left shoulder rocketing into his chest and lifting up to uphurl the monstrous Thaumaturge.

Wings holstered, Poetry charged in, pushing off with her hind legs to launch into the air before rocketing downwards. Unfortunately, Ezroms tail swung wide, catching the dragoness in the jaw and sending her spiraling to the ground.

Ezrom kicked, talons clawing Spyro's underbelly as the purple dragon was flung through the air. Breath hitched, Spyro strained against the pain. Looking up Ezrom was back on all for paws. The sickly dragon launched into the air, wings wrapping around his body. A beam of ice suddenly careened towards Spyro. A boulder barrier lurched upwards from the ground, cracks spider webbing beneath the beams gaze.

Head tucked in Spyro rolled, body molding into a boulder that sped across the outer rim of the courtyard. Poetry stood up, legs pivoting so that the dragoness performed an elegant butterfly kick that launched a concentrated blast of ice directly into Ezrom's muzzle. The undead drake retaliated, wings thrusting upwards a pillar of ice rocketed from beneath Poetry's feet and sending the dragoness into a nearby building.

Spyro's Tail reached out to launch a fire strike, the concentrated flame staggered the ice dragons attack. Wings faltering, Ezrom opened, gliding down before turning upwards above the city.

Spyro unrolled, rushing to the collapsed dragoness, icy rubble scattering beneath his frantic paws. The young female stood, legs wide to keep herself standing. A shake of her head and both dragons looked up just in time to dodge a frozen spear attack that punctured the floor where they had previously stood.

Poetry stood up first, looking to Spyro just in time to see the purple dragon get plucked from the ground by a white chain that hooked around the drake's neck.

Maw sputtering, Spyro's talons lashed at the freezing bonds tied around his neck. Blood seeped from self-inflicted wounds, turning the pearl white noose a vile crimson. Talons and paws tingling, the purple drake coughed. Mind struck with panic, Spyro's tail whipped up, slicing the tether centimeters above his head.

Ezrom roared.

Wings opening to catch the purple hero, Spyro's body acted on autopilot, haphazardly flapping in the vain attempt to keep the drake airborne. White danced around the corner of his eyes, slowly receding to reveal reality.

Fear gripped his heart, stomach fluttering uneasily. The violet dragon curled, boulder amassing around him protectively. The mass of rock and dragon crashed through cold stone brick, thundering into the floor of Shiverum in a trail of debris and destruction.

Poetry tailed behind Ezrom, flinging what looked like explosive snow blasts. Ezrom banked left, circling around the bell tower above the clearing. There came a sudden flash of light bright enough to force Poetry's paws over her eyes.

Lids blinking rapidly, Poetry looked forwards to see Ezrom tunneling towards her, maw wide to reveal crystal razors for teeth.

Forced to go down, Poetry collapsed her wings plummeting towards the city until catching herself above the ground; she swept between buildings. Ezrom snarled, gliding above the smaller ice dragon waiting for an opening.

Hollow undead raided the city streets, wolves, serpents snow leopards panthers and dragons alike, desperately fighting against ancient brethren in their crusade for destruction.

Poetry dived beneath an archway. Somersaulting through the air, she unfurled her wings horizontally. It slowed the young dragons flight pattern to a halt, keeping the dragoness beneath the bridge's obscurity and away from Ezrom's gaze.

The roar of wind signaled the dead dragons passing, allowing Poetry a moment of freedom to launch up behind him. She attacked, a volley of razor-sharp sheets of ice flinging forwards to cut at the hostile thaumaturge's wing membrane.

Head rattling the purple drake swung right, snow collecting on top of his wing membrane until let loose by the beating of his wings. Eyes tracing the distant form of Ezrom, the purple drake rocketed upwards into the sky. The sounds of the city faded.

All was quiet.

Heart racing, heat radiated off of Spyro's scales. The purple drake roared, flame bursting outwards in a comet. He spun, lines of smoke and fire spiraling through the air as he plummeted towards the surface, towards Ezrom.

Paladins formed teams, pushing against the invaders with opposing force. The streets erupted in legendary displays of thaumaturgic frost. The attack was fading.

Cyril would be proud.

The dark ice dragon Ezrom, snarled, vile black corrupted blood seeping from the cuts lining his wing bones and film. Slowly sinking the hollow male made to turn, gliding just above a resident garden that had been lucky enough to avoid the ruins of battle.

The roaring crackle and fuming of burning fire suddenly became audible to Poetry, drawing her gaze skywards. The young ice dragon gaped, wings fumbling as she quickly turned around.

There was a defeating howl, like a missile sent from the heavens striking down to the planet as Spyro's devastating comet strike ran Ezrom down, erasing the menace from the air.

There came the rumble of thunder, ash mingling with snow to collect on the cathedrals and watchtowers of the great Icelandic city.

A hush fell over Poetry's hearing, ears ringing so loud that only vibration and the feeling of winter winds on her cheek were distinguishable. The air smelled of sulfur, an acidic taste collecting in the young female's mouth as she made her way towards Shiverum's regal gardens.

Spyro rested, slumped to the ground in a heaping mass of exhausted breaths and collapsed wings.

Ezrom was only meters away.

White petal trees hung above all three dragons' heads, shrouding the garden's botanical beauty in a calm soft light.

Ezrom lay prone amidst a crater, a blemishing mark of destruction against the gardens crisp winter blue-green grass. His talons clutched at the dirt, rummaging through the soil to enjoy the feel of it beneath his claws one last time. Head looking skyward, tears drifting down from his eyes as his mouth opened in what seemed a desperate attempt to speak.

Somehow, Poetry found sympathy in the dragons passing, taking pity on the drake's dying strength.

"Imperia," Came the vain whisper. Head collapsing to the soft well kept grass. The lord of Shiverum lay lifeless in his own city. The great dragon passed through the veil for the final time.

The hollow chimes of a lullaby haunted the air.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Welp! It was really difficult writing this chapter. There were numerous roadblocks that I had to break through, none of them being easy. But… I have to say, it feels really good to be back. Hope you guys enjoyed it! If you did feel free to leave a review or send a PM! I always enjoy reading them and they definitely help me stay motivated. I already have the next chapter nearly complete and I'm expecting to have it up sometime near the end of this month or beginning of next! Until then everyone!**

 **Off the topic of AOA, I've started a Destiny Story. If any of you guys are interested in a dystopian future with plenty of sci-fi grit, guns and all things revenge, feel free to take a look at _Bitter Stars._**


	9. Chapter 9

War and Poetry

 **Author's Note: Here it is guys and gals! I'm rather happy with this chapter. I very much appreciated all your lovely reviews from the last chapter. I've certainly put a great number of hours in my attempts to improve my skills in writing and making sure all of you have an interesting reading experience. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy and please feel free to leave a review; I love to read them.**

* * *

 _Flashback_

Pinned to the floor against his will, Ezrom looked up in horror at his assailant, a vile shimmering green dragoness with thorns for spines and violet sinewy fans for horns. Four pupil-less crimson eyes glared down at him, fang-like teeth dripping foul smelling saliva that burned his scales.

"A new plaything! What fun!"

The icedrake struggled beneath the dragon's hold, dirt covered floor scraping his back. Head turning to the left and right, the drake searched for help. Eyes spotting a colleague, a gray-scaled earth dragoness, Ezrom made to yell only to have a stinger tail blade shoved into the crook of his neck.

"Can't have you calling for help now can we?"

Ezrom felt all energy drain from his body, muscles falling numb as the neurotoxin kicked in, rapidly onset deterioration already taking its toll; the drake's call for aid died in his throat. Meanwhile, the dragoness cackled, succulently licking at a drop of venom that threatened to drop from her stinger.

"Ezrom the silent truly falls silent!" The dragoness cackled maniacally.

Eyelids growing heavy, Ezrom grimaced, teeth biting into his tongue to keep him awake.

"Sleep little prey. Sleeeeeeep…"

Without warning, all pressure suddenly disappeared from Ezrom's torso and neck, a silver and white dragoness having replaced the green.

"Imp.. Im…" the words sputtered from the drake's mouth, tongue tripping over itself.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to play with your food, " The silver dragon taunted.

"And the maiden sweeps in to save her love." Once again the vile reptile laughed maddeningly.

Ezrom's chest tightened, insides slowly disintegrating. Body growing thinner and less healthy in complexion, the drake shuddered a cold breath.

A gnarled black taloned paw stepped over the ice drake, inches from the dragon's snout. The owner grinned down at the dying ice dragon, taking another step closer to the unsuspecting dragoness. Darkness slowly encroaching on Ezrom's vision, the dragon's heart rate came to a crawl. Gaze firmly locked on the outline of the white valiant dragoness, a tear trickled down the drake's cheek; helpless to watch the love of his life.

 _End flashback_

* * *

"Eliesia! Who did I just kill?!" Spyro's frustrated shouts filled the small enclosed palace room.

A shattered window allowed for a cool breeze to drift in, making the purple drake unwantedly shiver. The room appeared to be an armory, albeit considerably empty. Shiverum's paladins must have emptied the barracks at the first sign of attack.

The dragoness in question shook herself, the radiating heat that surrounded her at all times faltering slightly. Expression blank, the dragoness stared at the purple drake for a moment.

"A friend…" Eliesia sat on her haunches.

Spyro's expression softened, previously irate tail calming down as it dropped to the cold floor. Meanwhile, Aquaria gestured to a guard that stood idly at the room entrance.

"Find my daughter. I request her presence in the dungeons."

With a feverish nod, the guard departed, paws shuffling against the ground followed by the sound of a door opening and closing.

"He constructed this city's magic barrier." Eliesia paused, eyes growing distance in remembrance.

"A gentle soul that often at times preferred the company of books rather than friends. All except one."

Head lowered in hopes of catching the scarlet dragon's gaze, Spyro stepped closer. An idea suddenly burst into Spyro's head.

"Books… This city has one of the greatest collections of history and knowledge in the continent. Could they still be here?"

Eliesia gave a less than reassuring response: pursed lips and silence.

"Perhaps. Although if it's information you want I have the means of a more direct approach. One that won't take hours of searching," Aquaria interrupted.

Attention thoroughly grasped, all eyes shifted back to the guardian, knowing smile gracing her lips.

"It's been a while since I've had the chance to use the dungeons."

* * *

Wind whipped across the ocean, cold sea breeze wafting through the air in plumes of mist. Poetry glided effortlessly through the air, the pearl white mane that extended down her spine to her tail whipped wildly.

A building crumbled below, reduced to ash and cold stone rubble. Slowly descending, Poetry hit the ground in a running halt, wings folding behind her.

"Is everything okay," The dragoness couldn't help but ask.

"No," sobbed the father of three hatchlings, each clinging to the deep blue drake's paws. "everything's gone. Our home, friends…"

"Mommy… Mommy's missing," Cried one of the hatchlings. "have you seen her? She went to fight but…"

Poetry's heart throbbed, shaking like a fragile vase. Paws pulling the young dragoness closer to the crippled family, Poetry steadied her voice.

"There's more than enough room at the great hall and Shiverum trading houses. Go there and tell the Paladin, Poetry sent you. As for your loved one, I'll look for her."

The drake broke into a fit of sniffs, grateful nervous laughter escaping his lips.

"Small dragoness, paladin, horns like shiver elk antlers and the most stubborn smile you'll ever see."

Poetry couldn't stop the smile that graced her lips, thinking about the family and how dinner on a Sunday night might have gone.

"What division was she?" Poetry may not be familiar with every soldier but the dragoness made it a habit to know much of the ranks.

"Grey-wing," was the drake's simple answer. "Arjenta," he added.

"Pardon?"

"Her name… I-it's Arjenta."

"Of course." Paw resting atop the dragons left shoulder, Poetry gave a bow. Gaze shifting to the young dragons at their patriarch's feet, Poetry gave a soothing hum.

"Take care of your father now," the dragoness teased.

"Ancients bless you, mistress."

Departing ways, Poetry went east, intent on reaching the city gates where most of Shiverum's military was dispatched during the attack. Altogether the city had three gates, great ice constructed bridges connecting the great city of frost to the mainland. Unsure which to check first the dragoness settled on the furthest north.

Muscles taught and wings unfurled the female dragon prepared to move skywards.

"Madame Poetry! M-Madame!"

The ice dragoness halted, head pivoting to scan her surroundings. Off to left staggered a rather scrawny looking drake clad in much too large paladin armor.

"Yes?"

"Lady Aquaria requests your presence in the dungeons."

"I'm too busy to pander to her whims," scoffed the young female.

"But madame Poetry-"

"Please don't call me madame. I have no rank above you. Besides…" The ice dragoness blushed. "It makes it sound like I'm old."

"Yes ma'am," saluted the soldier.

Poetry deadpanned.

"However, I must insist you attend. A prisoner from the attack was captured. It's being held there now."

Poetry halted mid launch once again, muscles stiff as they all but froze at the paladin's words.

"Alive?"

"Yes!"

Poetry nodded, wings folding back up once again.

"Can you do a favor for me then?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Can you look for a paladin by the name of Arjenta of Grey-wing division."

Silence followed.

"I'm terribly sorry Miss poetry but… All of Grey-wing was lost during the attack."

Heart sinking, white-hot anger flashed through Poetry's nerves, talons kneading the slushy ground beneath her. Eyes burning, body numb, Poetry thought back to the hatchlings. The dragoness steadied herself, head tilting upward in attempt to drain the tears.

"That is all then," was all the dragoness let out before throwing herself into the sky, into the wind.

Wings trembling, Poetry physically shook herself, tossing the mind drowning thoughts aside. Instead, the female ice dragon focused on the breeze as it caressed her body, the delicate kiss of snowflakes numbing her burdened mind.

Thoughts renewed, Poetry surveyed her home, watching a group of younglings chase one another around a miraculously intact statue in one of the city squares.

Gaze shifting to the familiar walls and towers of Shiverum palace, Poetry circled the building in a slow descent. Falling behind the shadow of the great castle, the air turned brisk.

Paws firmly planted against the bitter frozen stone, Poetry stood in front of the wall, wings raised above her head in a display of their size. As if the structure recognized the dragoness, stones shifted to reveal a descending entryway staircase.

An uncharacteristically warm draft wafted up from the opening, scales almost changing shade in reaction to the sudden temperature. Stepping downwards, the stairwell opened up into a large, almost tomb-like structure, torches dangling from the ceiling by long silver chains.

Following the steps down, Poetry followed the echo of voices, instinct and memory driving her onwards and downwards.

As a youngling Poetry used to run through these large chambers, her childish screams and giggles echoing in the prisons vastness. Back then, the dungeon wasn't a dungeon, it's menacing air completely ignored by the ignorant bliss of a child. Now… the story was different. Although, the memories did bring a smile to the young dragon's face.

Eventually, Poetry found herself at the end of a hall, Spyro's calm collected voice muffled by a wooden chamber door. Was that who she had been hearing the whole time? A push of the door confirmed so.

Striding in, Poetry nodded to her mother before casting Spyro a friendly smile.

' _Poor dragon… He must feel so out of place surrounded by all dragonesses,'_ Poetry joked silently.

"Ehahehaghahahhegah," cackled a hollow sea serpent, dead eyes rolling loosely in its head. Blood trickled from its mouth collecting in pools on the floor below its maw.

Poetry couldn't stop the snarl that formed across her muzzle, pearl white teeth glistening in the chamber torchlight. This only served to amuse the serpent more.

"So warm," It seemed to sing.

In a movement so fast, Poetry slammed into the bars separating the prisoner from the rest of the room; everyone watched, startled.

"You don't get to enjoy yourself," Poetry threatened, thinking back to the poor family she had met only moments earlier.

Tail lashing, Poetry lowered the temperature, torches slowly extinguishing. One by one the warmth around the room faded, the serpents expression growing increasingly grim.

"POETRY," came Aquaria's firm warning

"They attacked our city!"

"You think I don't know that?"

The serpent hissed.

"Fire! Heat!"

"We had those torches lit because it's the only thing that allowed us to speak with it. Otherwise…" The guardian gestured, tail directing the young dragon's attention to the prisoner.

The snake screeched, loose scales falling to the ground in heaps.

A soft touch to the shoulder startled the female dragon, attention switching the soothing touch of Spyros large paw. Poetry nodded, relenting.

Not missing a beat, Eliesia reignited the torches with the flutter of her eyelids, radiating fire washing across the pristine white stone.

"Tassssty! Sss, sweet! Delicioussssssss warmth!" It seemed to speak directly to Eliesia. "Share the flame! Share it!" The creature's voice suddenly turn turned dark, fangs on display in an unsavory smile.

Deciding to join, Aquaria stepped forward, head raised dominantly.

"Where is the next attack," demanded the ice guardian.

"Filthy, dissssssgusting dragon! You cannot know!"

"You are an army with no leader," stated Spyro.

"Liesssssss! He promised ussssss life! He promised usssss blood!"

Eliesia's breath hitched, the room dimming until it smelled of smoke and ash; all turned to her. Paw lifted off the ground, Eliesia clutched at her chest, flame flickering strenuously inside her breast.

Looking back to the cage, Spyro watched the serpent smile malevolently, blood staining the elegant floor a vile crimson.

"When the fire fades and all will be borne in blood."

However, light quickly flooded back into the chamber, blinding the serpent. Striding forward, Eliesia's tail melted through the metal beams. With a haunting sound, the dragoness thrust her tail blade through the space between the lesser reptile's eyes.

"We needed it alive," Aquaria seethed.

"She wasn't going to tell us anymore. They are all the same." The dragoness turned to Spyro, measuring the drake's expression. "Only an honest death will cure them now."

Without another word the dragoness removed herself from the room, blade slipping from the creature's corpse with another harrowing _shlink._

"That thing was a _she_?" Poetry cast Spyro a scrutinizing look.

The purple drake laughed.

* * *

Back in the great hall, Spyro watched over Cynder's sleeping form, chest rising and falling with every breath. A fire rested just steps away, it's soft warm glow reflecting in Cynders black scales. The shivering had finally stopped, color slowly returning to the dragoness's wings and paws.

The drake's mind flipped between thoughts, part of him thinking of Cynder and another part reflecting on the ice drake he had slain. Taking another dragon's life was something Spyro tried to avoid, never finding it easy even under the most dire circumstances. The purple drake had never been one to actively play judge, jury and executioner.

' _It was either him or the citizens of Shiverum,'_ he attempted to reassure himself.

' _Only an honest death will cure them now,'_ echoed Eliesia's voice.

Suddenly, Spyro found his thoughts drifting to a darker time, the haunting laugh of Malefor echoing in his ears.

' _That was different,'_ he told himself.

Was it really? Malefor was killed by his own ambition, ultimately being destroyed by the one thing he sought to unleash: convexity.

' _Murderer… You enjoyed watching him die,"_ Something whispered in the back of his mind. The violet dragon startled, head glancing around the room wildly only to find it cast in total darkness.

An impenetrable black fog blocked everything outside of a ten-meter radius. Heart racing, Spyro looked to Cynder only to find Ezrom's corpse lying before him in her stead.

' _You killed him… Murderer.'_

Head shaking the purple drake, closed his eyes, muzzle turned upwards in a grimace.

' _Look what you did!'_

Eyes forced open, the purple drake was greeted with Cynder's limp body only this time, the color having faded entirely. Fire gone, there was no gentle rise and fall of her chest.

"No!"

The fog suddenly disappeared, leaving the drake back in the great hall. Intrigued onlookers stared, worried expressions painted across their faces.

"Spyro?" The familiar voice came from behind, peeling the violet dragons gaze away from his friend.

Poetry watched, head tilted to the side while soft empathetic eyes examined him.

Before the dragoness could get another word out, Spyro stood up, muzzle drawn considerable close to her head.

"Watch her… Please. I need to think..." Without warning the purple hero set off, Claws tearing scratches in the floor with every step.

"O-Kay," droned the dragoness as she watched the drake leave, murmuring apologies as he bumped into dragons along the way. "Don't develop the habit of stranding me!"

Cynder had woken up just in time to see the tail end of the pairs exchange, eyelids opening and closing drunkenly. Mind hazy, Cynder lifted her head up, glancing around the room for several moments before resting again.

Looking back Poetry spotted Cynder shifting restlessly, fur blanket slowly beginning to slide off. Paws compelling the ice dragoness forward, Poetry closed the distance in two swift strides, readjusting the blanket.

"Hate to be the bearer of bad news but you need to stay put," soothed the young Shiverum dragon.

The advice fell on deaf ears however, Cynder's head swimming groggily. The black dragon bit back a snarl, her sudden movements disturbing her still exhausted limbs.

"Nobody ever listens to me,"

Maw opening and closing Cynder grimaced at the foul odor in her mouth, the sour taste of sea salt lingering. Actions not going unnoticed, Poetry stood up, hips shaking as she strode over to a food stand.

"Soup and water," the dragon ordered. "Please," She quickly added.

The snow leopard gave a gruff grumble in understanding, scared, wiry paw lifting a ladle from a boiling cauldron. Despite not being hungry, Poetry couldn't help but feel her mouth water at the broth's delicious smell, eyes tracing the soupy contents as it poured into the tiny wooden bowl.

Frost beets bobbed tauntingly as cold root leaves swam loose circles around them. Meanwhile, the mind melting-taste of Grey-wing meat steeped the bowl with rich protein. Mind suddenly catching up; Poetry lost her appetite.

Tail wrapping around both the dish and finely crafted glass of water, the dragoness carried herself back to Cynder.

"Alright!" Chirped the excitable Shiverum dragon. "Who said frostbite meant you couldn't have delicious food?"

Paw helping Cynder lift her head, Poetry guided the dragoness's lips to the refreshing glass of water, draining its contents. Cynder shook her head, thoughts slowly clearing up as the drowsiness began to wear off. Next came the soup, it's warm inviting smell pulling Cynder closer until the contents all but spilled down her throat.

"Hey, you're spilling," Squeaked the ice dragoness. Poetry would be surprised if any amount of the broth made it into her stomach at all.

Mouth dripping, Cynder gasped, bowl clattering onto the floor.

"More…"

Eyes rolling, Poetry made her way back to the stand run by the less than savory feline.

"Another bowl of soup, please."

"Got outta line. Only one bowl per citizen, Mistress Aquaria's orders."

"But it's not for me, it's for-"

"I said no! Now stop wasting my time. Other people gotta eat too." The leopard obviously didn't recognize who he was talking to.

Temper swelling, Poetry bit her tongue, thinking back to her mother's words when she was a child.

' _The good, the right, the true-these are the actions appropriate for daylight hours.'_

Nerves relaxing, Poetry gave a curt bow in response before walking away. Mouth pursed, the guardian in training, pondered what else she could get Cynder. Back at the encampment ,however, the exhausted ebony hero was missing.

"Uh…" Head spinning, Poetry stood on her hind legs so as to look down from above the crowd.

Eyes squinting the dragoness scouted the main vessels of travel. Regarding the shape and color of each dragon that migrated through the large vein that winded through the ocean of refugees, Poetry spotted her target. Turquoise pearl white mane, shaking as the dragoness ran, Poetry quickly caught up the paw fumbling dragon.

"You're not gonna get very far with numb legs," teased the daughter of Aquaria.

"Watch me."

"I'd give you about another hour or so before you lost your legs entirely..." Just having spoken the words, the black female collapsed to the ground, talons shaking uncontrollably.

"Another two before you started hyperventilating and an additional hour before they froze off."

"Okay, I g-get it." Cynders teeth chattered.

Thoroughly having amused herself, Poetry propped her companion up from under her wing, chaperoning the frostbitten reptile back to warmth.

"Where were you planning to go, Stubby?"

Cynder raised an eyebrow, body shuddering beneath the warm protection of winter elk fur.

"Stubby?"

"Yeah. You know because you walk like- Nevermind. They can't all be winners."

Cynder couldn't help but take a liking to the dragoness across from her, admiring her ability to keep alight in bleak scenarios. Cynder regarded her quietly, admiring the well-kempt demeanor. Already Cynder could see the resemblance with her mother; raised to be regal.

"Something interesting on my face?" Poetry kept the same snarky tone.

...More or less.

"Where did Spyro go?"

The Shiverum daughter pondered the question a moment, eyes flicking around sporadically as if searching for an answer.

"There's no telling with him. Seemed spooked though. A lot happened since you passed out."

Both dragonesses paused, Cynder taking the time to admire the warmth of her nearby fire as it washed over her muzzle. Glancing around the room revealed more encampments, orange glow washing over the ocean of scales. Looking up, a chandelier dangled from the distant ceiling, part of it collapsed in on itself as it teetered precariously. Torn banners lined the walls and pillars, what could only be the cities insignia embroidered with fine silver and white thread: icicles arranged in the shape of wings cresting below a moon. Eyes shifting to a large pile of wooden furniture, table legs, chairs and bookshelves towered above the heads of all. A burn pile, Cynder safely assumed.

"How do you know Spyro?" Cynder asked the question so suddenly, even she hardly had time to think about why she asked it. Although, deep down she desperately wanted the answer.

Poetry gave a thoughtful smile, crescent-shaped tail blade tracing the brim of a wooden bowl.

"It was pretty lucky really. I bumped into him in the small town of Froleg, a farming town just a few hundred miles east of here." Poetry's expression suddenly turned sour. "Awful town," she couldn't help but add.

Cynder gave a nod, letting the dragoness know she was following along, even if she wasn't entirely aware of the town. Cynder didn't feel the need to plague the conversation with her ignorances.

"It was the year my mother was initiated into guardianship. I was in my exploratory phase; so was Spyro apparently, helping me out of a bind I was wrapped up in."

For a moment Cynder thought back to her discussion with the purple drake in the gardens of Warfang.

' _Ignitus.'_ Cynder could only wonder.

Focusing back on the young dragon's word's, Cynder couldn't help but tilt her head. What heroic deed had Spyro done this time?

The ice dragoness suddenly laughed, talon scratching the underside of her jaw. Eye quirked, Cynder shifted her paws, laying one across the other.

"I was involved with something a little over my head. Runaway prisoner extradition, boring politics; I won't get into it. Point being… Spyro helped me out of it."

"Afterwards, we sort of migrated from city to city looking for information of the Chronicler's lost island. I was mostly along for the ride as he searched... and searched… and searched." Poetry failed to suppress an exasperated laugh.

A pang of empathy struck in Cynder's heart, Imagining what it was like to look for something for so long. Although, the fact that he wasn't alone during those years offered some reassurance if only a little. Cynder wondered: thinking back… Why hadn't Spyro told her that he had a companion in the first place? Did he trust her? Or did he just think neither her and Poetry would ever meet?

"I stuck by him though, at least for a while; I'm glad I did too. Besides, I owed him."

Cynder couldn't stop the growing smile that spread across her maw. Log of wood shifting, sparks fluttered through the air, pulling the ebony dragon's attention.

"Was there ever anything between you and…"

Poetry sorted, paw continuing to fiddle with the bowl.

"No. Maybe, given the opportunity but... certainly not now with…"

"With what?"

"All of this going on, with _you_ being back." Poetry gestured wildly with her wings around the room then to Cynder. "Besides, I've turned a little too political for my own taste. I'm sure Spyro feels the same; even if he's too nice to say it."

Cynder held newfound respect for Poetry, understanding and a small amount of guilt filing itself into her thoughts. It was an interesting thing to imagine that this dragon had shared their own adventure with Spyro while Cynder was gone… Running from her past.

"I'm glad I met you, that Spyro met you," Cynder couldn't help but compliment.

Head bobbing limply, Poetry admired the large eternal moon that hung in the sky just beyond a stain-glass window.

"Me too."

Both dragoness's sat in silence, perfectly content in letting the remnants of their conversation fade with the roar of external activity surrounding them.

Ears straining, Poetry couldn't help but hum a tune, haunting lullaby still lingering in the atmosphere, although louder than what it had been before.

* * *

 **Author's Note: There it is! I sincerely hope you all enjoyed! There were a lot of things I had to think up and rewrite and edit but I was eventually led here. I have a question to propose to any of you willing to answer; I have numerous unpublished short stories and was wondering if any of you would wish to see them. Either way. Leave your answer in a review or PM. As always, thank you for taking the time to read my story. I've recently gone back to look over my past writings and feel the immense desire to go back and correct all my mistakes. Additionally, it also gave me a great sense of pride for all of you that have stuck with me through this journey so far. Either way, I'll be seeing you all in the next chapter.**


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